David Rossi - Tumblr Posts

Work Husband, Real Husband

Song🐣🎵- N/A

Artist🤸‍♂️🎤- N/A

Warnings 🥵 ⛔- Fluff

Prompt🥺🔥- “I know you’re working, but can I come over because I miss seeing your face?”

Ship😳💍- Rossi x Wife! Reader

Any extra Information📃- In this story Gibbs never fell into his coma in Season 3. This takes place around season 4 and 5.

2nd Person

You are David's 4th wife, the final and his one and only. The two of you met when you were first accepted into the BAU, you were the first to apply who didn't already work with the FBI. To be honest, David and Jason put you through multiple tests to ensure you were qualified for this job. In about a month the 3 of you were best friends. Jason treated you like a sister yet your relationship with David was awkward. You were there at every one of David's weddings, but you had been in love with him for years. There was something about that Italian flair, but you were starting to think that you would have to sit through a 4th wedding, not in white but in the pews. This was until Jason convinced you to confess. In that moment you found out that the two of you had been circling each other's feelings too afraid to try.

Since that day everything ran smoothly, moving in, proposal, marriage, and ultimately 3 kids, two boys and a girl. A set of twins shortly before David retired and one boy after. The moment David found out you were having twins, he knew something had to give. Both of you couldn't be gone, so he decided to retire and focus on his writing. You remained in the BAU but you focused on finding cases, occasionally going out in the field if it called for it, you were the first Communications Liaison.

David had been retired for 2 years when you decided this wasn't going to work. Leaving the state for days at a time with no guarantee when you'll be home. You had looked into multiple options for where you could work, you looked into intelligence... too top secret, linguistics... that also involved random travel with no guarantees. So you looked into moving agency's, until you found the perfect one, and your brother just so happened to work there.

So now that everything was settled, all you had to do was wait for David to get home from his third book signing this month.

1st Person

I was sat on the couch, when David came through the door, he had a late book signing and an interview with a local news article. It was around midnight, the kids had been placed down about 3 hours ago and I was watching reruns of I Love Lucy. When I heard the door shut it didn't take long for my husband to appear in the doorway. "How was it?" A smile graced my lips from the sight of my husband. "Long, what are you still doing up?" He strolls over to the couch, taking a seat beside me and laying an arm across the back of the leather sofa. I lean into his touch, thinking about my answer. "Some late research. I think I want to change agency's." I guess I caught him off guard because he was silent... which is odd for an Italian (or at least him) it really is. "And go where?" It took him a moment to say anything, his voice laced with confusion, wanting to ask why. "NCIS. I know someone who works there and I can't do these long trips anymore. When I came in the house, Angel and Anthony asked me if I was going to leave again. How do I explain to our 4 year olds that I'm not doing this on purpose?" I could feel myself about to cry, and in all honesty Dave was the only one I let see me like this. "I never thought I would miss you this much, I can barely sleep. And I talked to Jason about it, he said that's fine because the BAU is getting more funding." When I look up he had a small smile on his face, he leans in... kissing my forehead before standing up, a hand reached out to me. "Come on Mi amor. I'll make us dinner, get you to bed, and we'll get your transfer papers through tomorrow.” And that is exactly what we did, I don't know what I did in a past life to deserve this but David Rossi is the best thing to ever happen to me.

3rd Person

The short blonde woman stepped into building like she already owned the place. She was dressed head to toe in black, though she gave off everything but depressed vibes. She had a black cable knit sweater on with black dress pants that fit perfectly. While the woman was entering the building, there was a slight discussion going on upstairs.

The team sat in a make shift circle in Abby's lab. All of them were genuinely curious about their new co-worker. 'Them' being Ziva David, Timothy McGee, Anthony Dinozzo, Abby Sciuto, Jimmy Palmer, Donald "Ducky" Mallard, and even Jethro Gibbs decided to join the party after a very convincing (beg) talk from Abby. Gibbs was about to enter the room, when he caught the tail end of the conversation. "So literally no one knows who they are?" Dinozzo was nervous partially because new meant change and that has proven to be a difficult subject. "Nope, I tried to look for their file but I'm not cleared. Ziva tried too, not high enough clearance." McGee was actually happy, someone new on the team meant that Dinozzo would finally leave the teasing alone. Ziva furrowed her eyebrows. "I heard one thing." Everyone turned towards Abby, curious to what she knew. "They got transferred from the FBI. Or at least that's what I heard." This shocked everyone, the FBI hates NCIS so who would actually choose to transfer. "Do you think Gibbs knows who it is?" In that moment Gibbs walked through the door, putting all those facing Tony into an awkward silence. "He's right behind me, isn't he?" All of then nodded, terrified of their boss… well more like a fearful respect than terrifying. Before anyone could say anything, a voice came from behind him, “Don’t you get tired of doing that?” Everyone turned to the woman now standing in the door. No one knew who she was, well… almost everyone didn’t know who she was. “Uh, who are you?” Mcgee broke the silence that filled to room, the woman was still smiling, not looking at anyone but the back of the man in front of her. As she took a step away from the door, Gibbs turned around, recognizing the voice.

1st person

I could see Jethro turn around slowly, our eyes locked and only I could see the smirk that found home on his face. I looked around him to see the confusion still apparent on the other agents faces. "Me? My name is Y/N Fielding. The FBI transfer." If I learned anything from Jethro it was his ability to sneak into a room without being seen or heard. The boys mouths hung open and the girls had two different reactions. The one with pigtails had wide eyes, I guess she wasn't used to being caught. Finally, there was a girl with black hair but it was slightly wavy. She was indifferent to my appearance. I turned back to Jethro soon enough to see him straighten his face, "Who authorized your transfer?" I looked to the left, pretending to recall who signed the paper. "I think that would be Jason Gideon and Jennifer Shepherd." I look up at him, stonewalling for those behind him. I pull my transfer file from behind my back and hand them to him. "I'm you new senior field agent. I look forward to working with you Agent Gibbs." I smile as he opens the file, I know he isn't actually reading it but it is good acting if I didn't know that already. "You." He pointed to me, looking up from the file. "Come with me. The rest of you go back to your desks." With that, he walks away. I turn back to his team, waving slightly before trailing behind him. When we get to the elevator and the doors shut he flicks switch and the lights within the elevator began to flicker. "When were you planning on telling me." I tilt my head side to side slowly, looking towards the ceiling. "Actually, this was the plan. I really thought Jenny would tell you." He lets out a sharp sigh before flicking the switch back on. I have a feeling this is going to be a very interesting work environment.

3rd Person

4 years later and well…. Y/N was right. Dinozzo had lost all his senior field agent privileges, he couldn't tell Ziva or McGee to do anything anymore and they were loving it. She was nice, smart, she worked well, and she was never wrong. She was a nicer version of Gibbs, like what isn't to like about this. It had gotten to the point that they were too compatible, the whole team shipped the two together. Even Jenny thought they were dating when they first met. Y/N and Gibbs even walked in on Abby and McGee placing their faces in a future child generator that same day Y/N left work early and Gibbs was in a mood until the case ended.

Despite this strange encounter, Abby continued to call each of them husband and wife. It had gotten to the point she started saying it to their faces, every time they walked in together, she greeted them with the nicknames. This time, when they walked in, their faces were on the screen again, a generated picture of a baby in the center. They saw the photo before Abby could take it away. "I am so sorry.. I was just showing Dinozzo and Ziva…" The two didn't say anything, but a smile was on Y/N's face. Before Y/N could tell her she was fine, or Gibbs could ask about the case, Dinozzo spoke still trying to clear the air. "I mean she would be hot, I'd hit." He was laughing, everyone else was simply staring. Gibbs was glaring at him, which wasn't odd, but the weird thing was the smile on Y/N's face disappeared completely. Gibbs moved to head smack him, but before he could Y/N swept Tony's feet from under him. Before his face hit the floor, he caught himself, yet Y/N still knelt on his back, keeping him unable to get up. "She's cute Abby. Do you think you could age her up a bit. To like 19." The shock on everyones face stuck when Y/N went back to smiling. Abby quickly did what she was told, amazed by the abilities she witnessed. When the picture popped up, Y/N was almost brought to tears. The girl was gorgeous, this wasn't the shocking part though. The shocking part was the expression Gibbs wore, he was actually smiling. A genuine smile. "Hey, Abs. Send this to me okay." The girl nodded, it was aggressive and her hair was flying all over the place. Y/N got up off Dinozzo looking at the screen in closer detail, before turning back to look at Gibbs. They were both thinking the same thing and his eyes shifted to Abby, in that moment Y/N finally understood the attachment he had to Abby.

This simple gesture made everyone even more suspicious about the nature of their relationship. The 4 even started a pool. Dinozzo thought they were sleeping together, Ziva thought Y/N was ex-wife number 4 and they had a child who died, Abby thought they were married with children, McGee simply thought they were dating and she was pregnant. It got to the point that Ducky and Palmer decided to join in. Palmer agreed with Abby while Ducky thought McGee seemed really close to the truth. What they didn't know was that Gibbs and Y/N knew about the pool, in fact they were stood in the door while the discussion was taking place. "What if we're all wrong?" Okay, now that caught Y/N off guard, she didn't expect someone to say they could all be wrong, let alone Abby. "We just get our money back." Now Dinozzo didn't shock Y/N, he was expected. "What if we give the money to Gibbs and Y/N. They tricked all of us so technically they win." At that statement everyone agreed, some more confident than others. The two then walked away, the other 6 unaware of Gibbs and Y/N in the first place.

It has now been two weeks since that conversation, every party has attempted in someway to get Gibbs and Y/N to give up information without telling them exactly. By Gibbs and Y/N, it was just Y/N that got asked. Abby pointed out the ring on Y/N's finger, McGee said she was glowing, Dinozzo pointed out every time she was late or when the two would disappear into the elevator; Ziva was more of a silent stalker, she noticed every time Gibbs and Y/N interacted awkwardly or when a child case was brought up two the two seemed to take this one to heart. No one was willing to give up, everyone thought they were right. This was getting really tiring so everyone decided to stop beating around the bush and just ask…. Y/N that is.

1st Person

Today had been a relatively slow day, the boys were at a sexual harassment seminar so Abby was keeping Ziva and me company. "It has been 2 hours, ours only lasted 30 minutes." I couldn't help but complain, I finished all my paper work and to be frank, no one had turned up dead. "Awww... do you miss Gibbs?" Literally the entire floor could hear Abby's teasing, and they all partake when Jethro isn't listening. "Nope, I miss Tony's terrible innuendos." As soon as I said that I heard the foot steps approaching. "You don't miss me." I could hear the smirk growing on his face as Jethro and Dinozzo walked towards the bullpen. "You mean the same person who made me rewrite an entire report?" I turn in my chair to face Jethro's desk as he takes a seat on the table. "It was sloppy." All I could do was stare at him, knowing damn well that was a lie. "I did not spend 3 years learning calligraphy for you to call my work sloppy. I have the best handwriting on the team. You're just mad it was too small for you to read without squinting." I couldn't help but laugh, and I could tell he wanted to as well by the smirk that turned into a smile. Today marks the first year of David's return to work, and the cold bed was starting to kick in again, but this time it wasn't so lonely anymore. The kids sneak into my room when they can, and David calls every night. I could tell today was going to be a good day, especially when my phone rang and my husband's name popped up. His name remained as David in case my phone was ever stolen, so I could feel the looks from the girls in front of me. They were all close enough to read the name on my phone since it was sat face on the desk.

When I picked up the call, I ignore the looks from the girls and answered as if it was a normal professional call. "Agent Fielding speaking." I could hear him laughing on the other end. "Hey baby, are they that close?" I try not to smile, because now everyone was looking at me. "That sounds about right. I believe more than one actually." I can hear chatter in the background, so I start to assume he's at work. "I know you’re working, but can I come over because I miss seeing your face?" I can't help but smile, ok so maybe the loneliness was more than I could every expect. "You never have to ask." He wasn't speaking but I knew he was smiling on the other end. "I'll be there in about 2 hours." I was so distracted that I forgot about the people around me, that was until I locked eyes with Dinozzo. "Alright." I shake my head back and forth, I can literally see the curiosity in the eyes of the team. "I love you. Mi Amor" His tone was different this time, he was honest and I could tell that the distance was effecting him just as much. "You know I do." And with that he hung up the phone. Everyone was still staring at me, I can tell Tony is about to ask but I prolong this a little longer. "Jethro, do you wanna get coffee?" This was the first I said his name at work, and to be honest it was kind of out of instinct. Yet, all he did was nod his head before following me to the elevator. The team was now beyond shocked, this day is going way better than expected.

3rd person- With the BAU

"So, when do we get to meet her?" As the call cut, an unexpected voice broke the silence that filled David's office. The voice came from Hotchner, Rossi's close friend and boss. "Soon." The response was curt, it's not that David didn't want her to meet them. It's just that when ever they were going to plan something, a case came up on either end. "She works at NCIS right?" The moment that left Aaron's mouth, David knew exactly where this was going. "Yes… yes she does Aaron." The older male was obviously suspicious, so his bosses next words were expecting because he had done it before. "So I think the whole team needs to head down for a case we had a while ago." There was a legitimate smile on Aaron's face, one so genuine that David couldn't even be mad at his friend. "Do you, want to go see my wife?" He spoke slow, saying each and every word with emphasis. The only response he received was an equally as slow and emphasized head nod. "God Aaron. Sure."

"Pack up, we are taking a trip to the NCIS naval base in Quantico." Aarons voice boomed over the bullpen, gaining the attention of his team as well as everyone else sat at their desks. There was a confusion looming over the area, JJ was the first to speak up about it. "I didn't get anything about a case…" "No case, no consultation. This is a friendly visit, we are going to see Agent Y/N Rossi. Consider this the beginning of your weekend." Aaron spoke quieter, a bag in hand, as he neared the group of desks his agents occupied, David trailing behind also carrying his regular to-go bag. "Wait, so we actually get to meet the Mrs. Rossi." David was cautious of the teams reaction, but by Dereks response and the rest of the teams easiness to the situation his nerves calmed on their own. Unconsciously, the couple had the same thought, today is going to be a good day.

There were 3 groups:

David drove; in his car was just Aaron.

Following directly behind him was Derek, in the car with Penelope and Spencer.

In the final car, Emily drove with JJ in the passenger seat.

No one had any complaints, apart from Derek. He had to deal with the excessive knowledge and facts of NCIS and their origins. By the time they arrived, he was ready to kill Spencer, his audio tapes, and the 60 books he carries. The 3 groups connected back together at the entrance of the federal building. "I swear, if I have to hear one more damn page turn. I am going to snap." Everyone laughed at the statement, everyone but Reid. While conversing, they walked through the building with ease, flashing their FBI badges at the very entrance. They were motioned to the 4th floor, apparently that is where the directors office is. When the elevators doors opened, they were met with a bullpen similar to their own.

1st person- 5 minutes ago

Jethro just got back 10 minutes ago, and as soon as we walked out the elevator, Dinozzo began speculating. "How was the coffee?" He was smirking stupidly, leaning onto Ziva's desk. I blink at him a few times before responding, "It was good, would you like to try?" I hold up my coffee cup, a smile plastered on. "Nope, that seems like an intimate thing." "Getting coffee?" Ziva responded to his stupidity before I had the chance, yet for some reason he still thought he was correct. I roll my eyes taking a seat at my desk. "Gibbs, can you look at this for me? The director wants it on his desk by Monday and I don't exactly want to do work over the weekend." For the first time I wasn't playing into their little bet, I was genuine on my motive. He trudged next to me, leaning over to read the words typed on the screen. "Yeah, just put your name on it. You've been doing that forever." I sigh from his words, something so simple could have been very bad if I actually turned it in. I typed my name and he checked it over once again before giving me a nod, heading back to his desk. When I looked back up after sending the email, Ziva, Tony, and McGee were all staring at me. Soon, the elevator doors opened and out walked Ducky, Palmer, and Abby. "Hey, Y/N?" Abby's voice reached my ears soon after the doors closed. "Yes Abs?"

"Are you married?"

"Yes."

That was only half of the conversation, it was cut off by McGee. "You were actually wrong Tony," There was a short laugh and a groan from Tony before Abby continued.

"Do you have children?"

"Mhm."

The next voice to cut Abby off was Tony, "Ha! You were wrong too Probie." He was laughing a lot harder, I guess he's fine he lost money if it doesn't go to Tim. "So Palmer and Abby won?" McGee was cut off by Abby, "Not yet."

"Is Fielding your married name?

"No."

"So it's your maiden name?"

"Yes."

My responses were simple and short, she didn't ask who I was married to so why explain more than I have to. "Now I won." Her smile was too cute to even attempt to crush, I had no intention to… until the elevator doors slid open and out walked agents in formal attire. I was confused until I saw David exit the metal box. The group walked to the small area we had in the bullpen. "Hello, I am Aaron Hotchner. FBI, and we are looking for Agent Y/N Fielding." I could see the team tense up at the mention of my name, they had yet to see me in the corner since Tony was placed in front of me. I stand up slowly, giving them full view of me. David steps forward, and began introducing his team to my own. "This is Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Dr. Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, and I am David Rossi." He pointed to each member of his team as their words left his mouth before pointing to me. "This is Y/N, my-" The boy he called Spencer cut him off before he could state the nature of our relationship. "You are one of the founders of the BAU. You are a legend, the first communications liaison. Though at the time it was known as the Relations Mediator (I just came up with something)" The boy went on to ramble on about random FBI and NCIS fact I honestly didn't know. "Reid, we can talk about this later. Let me introduce my team." I turned to see the confusion on everyone's faces, all except Jethro. "This is Anthony Dinozzo- our senior field agent, Ziva David- a former Mossad agent, Timothy McGee- our technical genius, Ducky Mallard- our medical examiner, Jimmy Palmer- assistant medical examiner, Abby Sciuto- our forensics scientist. Oh and Leroy Jethro Gibbs." I pause when he smacks me on the back of the head for saying his full name, making me laugh slightly. "My brother-in-law and boss. This is David. My husband." There were various greetings from those across from me, but behind me was relatively quiet. " Can you repeat that again?" I turned around at the sound of Ziva's voice, Jethro's arm falling on the top of my head. "This is my husband." "Is this what you would call, the cat inside the bag?" I giggle at her confusion, "It's cat outside of the bag, but yes Ziva."

3rd person

Y/N's team was shocked beyond belief, there were no words to describe the slap in the face they just received. While David's team was nonchalant and happy to meet their friends lover. "Pause, explain." Dinozzo was pissed that he couldn't tell what was happening, he thought he was good at figuring out these things. "Jethro's first wife was my sister. And when you generated what our child would looked like, it looked exactly like my niece." This sentence seemed to catch the attention of someone on David's teams. "You have an offspring generator? That is that accurate?" Garcia was beyond excited and it was obvious by the smile on her face and the inability to sit still. Y/N and Gibbs could see the similarities between Garcia and Abby, the similarities between them and Kelly… if only she was able to grow up like normal.

Y/N took a seat on Dinozzo's desk, staring at the interaction between the two groups. "I think this also means they owe us, don't they Jethro?" There was a smirk on her face and humor in her voice that even David team couldn't help but smile at. "Wait wait… so you knew what we were doing this whole time and you didn't say anything?" All Y/N could so was shrug at Palmer's question. The situation was quickly ignored as everyone brought up different conversations. The teams even started to split and find their look alike on the other team, Spencer and McGee drifted together, the same for Dinozzo and Morgan. Abby and Garcia were practically best friends while Ziva was struggling to keep up with JJ and Prentiss. Aaron actually had something to discuss with Director Vance so headed up to his office, passing David headed towards Y/N and Gibbs.

Surprisingly, the two had never met. Gibbs was unable to go to her wedding because he was newly deployed on his second tour. So Y/N decided it was time for proper introductions. "Real husband, work husband. Work husband, real husband." Her words came out slow as he hand drifted between the two men, she was still sat on Tony's desk. There was hen out of no where the 3 of you start laughing. "I see it." The two spoke at the same time, giving Abby a little peace of mind that her theory on Y/N's husband might not be as far off as she thought.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder." His words were random yet directed. "I guess it really does." The couple shared a kiss that was nothing less than passion and affection. Staring into each other's eyes, David and Y/N knew that this was the life they were meant to live, no ex-wives or co-workers was going to change that.

BONUS:

Dinozzo: "So are we going to tell them they won $600?"

Y/N: "I heard that Dinozzo."

Dinozzo: "Sorry boss I mean Y/N, uh… you and your husband are very cute."

Y/N: "I'll pick up my half on Monday."

Masterlist

THE 9-1-1 BREAK HAS ME BACK ON MY CRIMINAL MINDS BULL SHIT. I AM NOT KIDDING. 💀

Spencer Reid is a bat Good Mom!Talia Editon One-shot

Spencer Reid has been an enigma for as long as Derek had known him.

Eidetic memory, never wore matching socks, love for statistics and math, and a special interest in languages, etc. Reid was one of his closest friends in the bau for years now, but he'd never have guessed how hot his mom was.

--------

Spencer was having a terrible day. Firstly, he forgot his lunch, missed his stop, had to wait for the next, and then almost ran to work, and when he finally made it, the coffee machine was broken. The only thing that was going to save it was the fact his mom was coming into town for a mission and wanting to meet up after work.

"You're late, pretty boy!" Morgan laughed at him. He attempted to ruffle his hair, but he dodged it, knocking himself against his desk. That would leave a bruise. At least his family wasn't here, Dami would tell him he was embarrassing the family name despite the fact he didn't even have the family name.

"Fuck..." he grumbled clutching his leg and limped behind his desk to collapse into his chair.

"Definitely not my day." He complained.

"Come on, boy genius! At least we dont have a case!" Penelope exclaimed.

"Pleaee for the love of God dont jinx us." Prentiss begged, lining up her paperwork on her desk.

"Bad day, Spencer?" She queried amused." Don't even get me started." He complained, throwing his arms back.

She snickered at him but returned to her own work. Garcia continued past to her own office after stealing her pen he borrowed yesterday, and Morgan simply smirked and sat back down.

The day continued with occasional questions or jokes. Some of the paperwork had begun to stack, and they were taking the day to complete it, but the rhythm of paperwork was drolling.

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Penelope had made a deliciously delightful and creamy pasta dish for dinner last night and taken the leftovers to split with her chocolate thunder. Derek and her were currently on their way to the closest microwave when they saw her.

Her being an incredibly good-looking older woman of possible Middle Eastern descent approached them.

"You two look like you know your way around the building, care to show me the way to the cafeteria?" She spoke with a calm and fluid voice with slight humor in it and an Arabic accent. The kind of voice, the words, that just roll together, and you just know they sing heavenly. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent, and it raised a slightly uneasy feeling in her stomach.

She was dressed simply but richly. The kind of clothes she could only dream to buy and never pull off.

"I don't know who's asking?" Derek attempted to flirt.

"I don't appreciate my time being wasted by shameless dogs like you. I'm already spoken for, and even if i wasn't, i certaintly wouldn't waste my time with you." She spoke harshly, shoving past between them barely avoiding bumping shoulders.

"Good lordy, what her problem?" She attempted to joke, trying to pick up her slack jaw.

"I don't know, but i don't like it." Derek warned in that sexy and mysterious voice of his.

Derek turned around and trailed behind that woman's expensive pencil skirt. She unfortunately realized that she wasn't going to be able to heat up her pasta and would have to eat it cold again. She lamented for a second, then followed him past the few people milling about.

---------

Derek had been in the fbi, police, and marines way too long to not be suspicious of a woman like that. He's seen plenty of men underestimate pretty women and miss the sharp keen eyes and get stabbed by their sharp keen knives, and he wasn't going to let that happen to any of his friends. Mostly Reid and Baby girl, the others don't need his help all that much.

She was walking fast, suddenly with a mission, and Derek somehow lost her in the lunch crowd. Eventually, he realized he couldn't see her and was getting nowhere, so they made the decision to head back to the bullpen she was probably long gone anyway.

By the time they made their way back after they found a microwave , they had all but forgotten about the mysterious woman until they saw her perched on Spencer's desk stealing his food.

Henquicku catologed the others in room watching in the room. Rossi and Emily were shamelessly watching a few desks away while Hotch and JJ were near his office on the railing, both pretending not to notice.

"What's going on?"He whispered to them. "That is apparently a woman close enough with Spencer to go to his apartment while he's gone and notice his lunch is on the counter so she made him homemade to replace it and brought it to his work." Rossi stated without looking away.

The woman was smiling lovingly at Spencer, and sharing a large dish of some Middle Eastern dish, he'd butcher the name of.

They continued shamelessly staring, but the woman would occasionally look st, then from the corner of her eyes. Spencer was laughing with her and smiling wider than he's seen him smile in years.

" I can't do this anymore. I'm asking them." Emily suddenly announced stsndingnuo and taking the room in great strides.

" Wait, Prentiss-" both he and Rossi tried in vain to stop her and were outmatched by Garcia folding shirts after her much slower.

"Hi, SSA of the BAU Emily Prentiss." She introduced herself with a kind smile and an outstretched hand.

"It took you all long enough to end your blatant eavesdropping." She spoke harshly, staring at the hand as if it had personally offended her.

"Talia, please not now." Spencer hissed at her, his voice scandalized.

"But habbibi-," the newly dubbed Talia tried defensively, attempting to explain himself.

Habbibi? Wasn't that some kind of Arabic word for love or something like it. He really wasn't as languidly gifted as the others.

"These are my friends and coworkers. Please play nice for my sake." Spencer pleaded. He could see Hotch and JJ finally making their way to them from the corner of his eye.

He turned to look questionably to look at Rossi but only got a shrug and a grimace all in one.

"Talia, pleased to make your acquaintance." She spoke as if her words poked at her own being.

" I'm-" He attempted.

"I already know who you all are, kalb." She spoke disdaned.

" Mom!" Spencer shouted suddenly incredibly offended.

"Mom...?" He heard Garcia mutter under bresth. You and me both baby girl.

" Reid, who is this?" Hotch questioned.

" Why I'm his mother. Don't you see the resemblance?" She spoke smoothly, her chin coming to rest on her hand. Her crossed legs and one hand on her lap while the other rested on her leg holding her head up directly contrasting Spencer's scandalized face, but the way he was now leaning backward arms crossed staring her down started to seem a little familiar.

While their mannerism were similar, their everything else was different. Spencer face shared no Middle Eastern features, and with light curly brown hair and chocolate eyes, her straight dark brown hair, and almost glowing emerald eyes, they were far from having any family resemblance.

"I thought your mother was Diana Reid?" Garcia asked hesitantly.

"Well, genetically speaking, yes." He answered, cringing st his own words.

"And legally." Hotch spoke deeply.

"Well, my beloved never cared much about laws anyway." She waved it off, disinterested.

"Mom! We are in a federal building!"

" What? You know he kidnapped Jason off the streets. That's far from the worst law he's broken anyway." She continued.

"He was later legally adopted. I never was." He spoke, his voice wavered slightly.

"Oh, habbibi, he would adopt you the second you asked. He keeps all the papers up to date in his office." She comforted.

" I... Um Hotch?-" His eyes were becoming suspiciously damp.

" Take the rest of the day, Reid." Hotch spoke simply before turning bakc to his office talimg Rossi with him. What a softie.

And as he watched Spencer and his mom walk out, he couldn't help but think more on the enigma of Spencer Reid.

A/n I loved writing Penelope and tried to bleed her cooky personality into her pov. The reason why Talia is a little bit more harsh is because she knows they weren't really there for her son when he was struggling with like Hankle and the other stuff so I wanted to make her have a bit of a grudge against them.

can someone please do fanfic where our girl Emily is an unsub. Our girl is smart asf, she can blend in anywhere, has multiple identities while being on run, is full of contacts everywhere, can speak multiple languages, and is a badass, and where our girl wins and the BAU loses. OR another fic where our girl Emily probably had to go to a school with super rich kids {with nothing but fake friends} like ms.girlie probably went to a boarding school and was literally the new girl many times cause she was always moving!! (also prefer no pairings because our she is an independent queen!)

(found on pinterest)

I started writing my first story, is a mini criminal minds and marvel crossover !! Is mostly Emily, Nat, Yelena centric !! Please check it out and everything!!! Please give me you honest opinion about it !! 🤍🧡

Wattpad

αραтιтє - APATITE

Read APATITE from the story αραтιтє by popqxeen with 9 reads. yelena, criminal, avengers.

Where have I seen this?

Ah yes! His twin

I just can't with this💀💀

Bro, seeing Rossi playing video games with Ashley melts my heart. It shows how much he truly cares for her. (S6 E16- Coda)

‘Where’d you find this kid’

‘He was left in a basket on the steps of the FBI’

I’m actually giggling I love all the interactions between the BAU they’re all literal children

Undercover Heat

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

TW: Regular Criminal Minds violence, mentions of blood, death, and gore, suggestive content at the end (no smut), a bit of foul language, enemies to lovers, Hotch is kind of a meanie.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Sitting in the Los Angeles police station for the third day in a row has the entire team from the B.A.U stretched thin and exhausted. They’ve been dealing with a serial killer who targets couples with large age gaps in upscale, luxury clubs. He’s taken out three couples in the past three weeks. Tension was thick in the air, the exhaustion from long hours spent hunting a brutal unsub weighing on each of them.

Y/N runs a hand over her face in irritation as she leans on Morgan’s shoulder. They’ve been driving themselves crazy trying to figure out who this killer is. They’ve gone to multiple different clubs asking if anyone has seen a man between ages 35-50 who tends to sit at the bar people watching rather than engaging in the night’s festivities. But the regulars and employees said they hadn’t seen anything. Their unsub has been strangling his victims in the luxury clubs before dumping their bodies exactly two miles away in very particular positions. They’ve all been found in public spaces. But so far, they were missing something.

Hotch stood at the front of the room, flipping through the latest crime scene photos as Rossi and Morgan finished pinning the map with the last locations of the attacks. Y/N sat across from Reid, skimming through her notes as she analyzed the patterns. With an IQ of 179, a doctorate in criminology and psychology, two master’s degrees in chemistry and law, and a B.A. in history and human resources, her mind rarely rested. She could also fluently converse in four languages—French, Russian, German, and Spanish—which had come in handy countless times in the field. Despite her vast knowledge and sharp instincts, this case had left her unsettled. Something was off, and they hadn’t cracked it yet.

Rossi broke the silence. “We’ve been over this already. The unsub is hitting clubs that cater to the upper class, targeting couples with large age gaps. But there’s still a piece we’re missing. Why these clubs? Why these victims?”

Morgan crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “This guy knows how to pick his victims, that’s for sure. But he’s not choosing randomly—there’s gotta be something more connecting these places.”

Y/N frowned, glancing between the case files and the map. “It’s not just about wealth. These clubs aren’t the most high-profile ones in the city, and they’re spread out across the area.”

Reid tapped his pen against the table. “It’s true. They’re not clustered in one neighborhood, and they don’t have a shared ownership group or any overt connections that we’ve found.”

Emily Prentiss nodded from her spot at the edge of the table, deep in thought. “What about the victims? They’re all couples with significant age differences. That’s part of his ritual, but it doesn’t explain why he’s picking these clubs.”

Y/N was staring at the list of clubs they’d canvassed earlier: Ascend, Bourbon Room, Cielo. She narrowed her eyes, something beginning to click in her mind. “Hold on…”

“What is it?” Hotch asked, noticing her shift in focus.

Y/N sat up straighter, her voice thoughtful. “The clubs… they’re in alphabetical order. Look—Ascend, Bourbon Room, Cielo. He’s not just picking random spots. He’s following a sequence.”

Reid’s eyes lit up in realization. “You’re right. It’s subtle, but it makes sense. This kind of obsessive order suggests a particular form of OCD—a need to control every element of his actions. It’s not about the clubs themselves; it’s about the order they fall into.”

Morgan rubbed the back of his neck, impressed. “Damn. This guy’s not just a killer—he’s a full-on control freak.”

Hotch nodded, his expression serious. “If he’s following an alphabetical pattern, we can anticipate his next move. What’s the next club in line?”

Y/N flipped through the files, pulling out the next likely target. “‘DeVane.’ It’s upscale, fits the profile of where he’s been targeting couples. If he’s keeping to this pattern, that’s where he’ll strike next.”

JJ stepped forward, pointing at the map. “Alright. So we’ve got the next location. Now we just need to draw him out.”

Rossi’s eyes light up with an idea as he looked between Y/N and Hotch, “Well, we know the unsub’s got a thing for couples with big age gaps. Looks like we need a decoy.”

Before anyone could react, Morgan’s gaze landed squarely on Y/N, mischief dancing behind his eyes, “And we’ve got the perfect couple right here.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait, hold on, what?”

Emily, catching onto Morgan and Rossi’s plan, chuckled. “He’s right, you know. You and Hotch fit the profile. It’d be perfect.”

Y/N stared, incredulous, before glancing toward Hotch. The man was stone-faced, as usual, but she could feel the tension rise between them. “You want me to pretend to be in a relationship with him?”

Morgan shrugged, his smile widening. “Well, you’re 23, Hotch is… not 23. The age gap fits perfectly.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, frustration building. “You’re seriously suggesting that Hotch and I—two people who can barely tolerate each other—pretend to be a couple?”

Hotch didn’t even look up from his files. “We’re professionals. We can set aside our differences for this.”

Y/N let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Set aside our differences? Hotch, we can’t even get through a team meeting without arguing over strategy. How do you expect us to pull off a believable relationship?”

Prentiss leaned in, smirking. “You two do argue like an old married couple already.”

Y/N threw her a sharp look. “That’s not funny.”

JJ chimed in, trying to defuse the tension. “Look, I know this is uncomfortable, but we need to catch this guy before he kills again. You two are the best option we have.”

Y/N shook her head, frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t just about being uncomfortable. We have to convince the unsub that we’re a legitimate couple—he’s going to notice every detail. And we’re not exactly… compatible.”

Hotch finally spoke up, his tone calm but firm. “We don’t have to like each other to do our jobs, L/N. We just have to be convincing enough to lure the unsub in.”

Y/N stared at him, arms crossed tightly. “Convincing? You and I can barely stand to be in the same room. How do you expect us to sell a romantic relationship?”

Morgan chuckled from the side. “Come on, L/N, you’re one of the smartest people I know. With that IQ and all those degrees, you can figure this out.”

Y/N shot him a glare. “I have a doctorate in criminology and psychology, a master’s in law and chemistry, and a B.A. in history and human resources. None of those degrees cover ‘pretending to like your boss who you can’t stand.’”

Rossi stepped in, his tone more diplomatic. “Look, we wouldn’t ask you to do this if we didn’t think you could handle it. This guy’s escalating, and we need to act fast. You and Hotch are the best team for this.”

Y/N sighed, clearly frustrated but recognizing the urgency. She looked over at Hotch, who met her gaze with that same impassive expression. “Fine,” she muttered. “But for the record, I still think this is a terrible idea.”

Hotch gave a curt nod. “Noted.”

»»————-　➴　————-««

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, eyeing the skimpy red dress that Emily had insisted she wear for this undercover mission. The fabric clung to her figure, accentuating every curve. The slit on the side revealed a generous portion of her thigh, leaving just enough room to conceal her gun but not much else to the imagination. The sweetheart neckline plunged dangerously low, exposing far more cleavage than she was used to. She felt exposed, vulnerable—but Emily had been insistent.

“Trust me,” Emily had said with a wicked grin. “You’ll knock them dead.”

Y/N took a deep breath and adjusted the neckline again, trying to reconcile the professional part of her brain with the woman staring back at her in the mirror. She wasn’t usually the type to use her looks to her advantage, but tonight was different. Tonight, the mission came first.

She stepped out into the hallway where the rest of the team was waiting. The moment she appeared, Morgan’s eyes widened, and he let out an appreciative whistle. “Damn, Y/N, you trying to kill the unsub or us?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “It’s not that bad.”

Morgan grinned, his gaze trailing over her in a playful, non-threatening way that only a close friend could get away with. “If this guy doesn’t fall for the bait, Lord knows I will,” he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth making Y/N slap his chest.

Emily stepped up beside Morgan, her eyes lighting up with approval. “See? I told you that dress would be perfect. You look like a total bombshell.”

Y/N glanced down at herself, smoothing the fabric over her hips. “Yeah, well, I feel like I’m about to flash someone.”

Emily shrugged, unfazed. “That’s kind of the point.”

Morgan shot her a wink. “You’re gonna break hearts tonight, sweetheart. Just make sure it’s the right one.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered toward Hotch, who had been silent since she entered the room. His gaze was locked on her, but he wasn’t saying anything. His eyes were dark, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the way he looked at her that made her stomach tighten.

He quickly glanced away when she caught him staring, clearing his throat. “We need to focus on the mission.”

“Right.” Y/N nodded, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in her chest. She wasn’t here to impress anyone—least of all Aaron Hotchner. He was too serious, too controlled. While Y/N on the other hand tends to handle the job by hiding behind a wall of humor and sarcasm, something Hotch hates. They’d never gotten along. This was strictly business.

Still, as they walked out to the car, she couldn’t help but feel Hotch’s presence looming next to her. He hadn’t said a word about the dress, but the way his eyes had lingered on her—particularly on her cleavage—hadn’t gone unnoticed. It was like he was trying not to look, but failing miserably.

By the time they arrived at the club, Y/N’s nerves had settled somewhat. The loud thrum of music pulsed through the walls as they approached the entrance, and she straightened her spine, trying to adopt the confident persona they needed for the night.

“Okay,” she murmured as they stepped through the door. “We need to sell this. So maybe try not looking like a statue,” she grumbles lowly.

Hotch, staying ever stoic, gave a curt nod. “I know.”

But Y/N wasn’t convinced. Hotch’s body language screamed discomfort. His shoulders were rigid, his movements stiff, and he had the expression of someone being dragged to an event they wanted no part of.

She leaned in closer to him, keeping her voice low. “Hotch, you’re going to blow this if you don’t relax. We’re supposed to be a couple.”

“I’m relaxed,” Hotch said, though the tension in his jaw told a different story.

Y/N huffed in frustration. “You look like you’re about to interrogate someone, not go dancing with your girlfriend.”

Hotch shot her a look. “I’m here to catch the unsub, not dance.”

“You’re here to catch the unsub by pretending to be my boyfriend,” Y/N whispered fiercely. “Right now, you’re not doing a very good job of that.”

Hotch’s expression remained impassive, but Y/N could sense the faintest hint of annoyance in his eyes. “What do you suggest?”

“Start by putting your arm around me,” she said through gritted teeth. “Couples don’t walk into clubs two feet apart.”

Hotch hesitated, then slipped his arm around her waist. It was awkward at first, his hand hovering as if he wasn’t sure where to put it. But Y/N pressed into him slightly, encouraging him to pull her closer. After a moment, his grip tightened, and they moved deeper into the crowded club.

They found their way to the dance floor, where couples swayed and ground against each other in the dim, pulsating lights. Y/N turned to Hotch, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of their target. They had to blend in.

“Follow my lead,” she said softly.

Hotch nodded, though the tightness in his posture remained.

Y/N began to move to the music, her body swaying in time with the beat. Hotch tried to follow her movements, but he was stiff, almost robotic. She bit back a sigh and leaned into him, pressing her body against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“We’ve got eyes on us,” she whispered in his ear, her lips brushing against the skin just below. “Black hoodie, sitting alone at the bar. You need to make this believable. Stop acting like I have some incurable disease.”

Hotch’s hands found her hips, his grip firm but hesitant. Y/N could feel the tension radiating off him, but she kept moving, her body fluid and sensual as she ground against him. Their bodies remain close, she spins around pressing her ass against crotch, and for a moment, she felt his breath hitch.

“You’re too stiff,” she murmured, leaning her head back, her lips grazing the shell of his ear. “Relax.”

Hotch’s hands tightened on her hips as he tried to match her rhythm. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders began to ease, and he pulled her closer, his breath now becoming warm against her neck.

“That’s better,” Y/N whispered, her voice low and teasing.

Hotch’s hands moved more confidently now, gripping her hips with a possessive strength that sent a shiver down her spine. Y/N’s heart raced as she tilted her head slightly, brushing her lips against the skin of his neck. She trails kisses up and down his skin, nibbling at the soft spot that connects his shoulder to his neck. She turns back around, running her hands through his raven black hair, tugging on the strands which ends up pulling a small groan from Hotch’s lips. The music and atmosphere of the club seems to have pulled them in much deeper than they thought. It’s getting harder to breathe the closer they stay.

“We’ve got his attention,” she murmured, her lips ghosting along the curve of his jaw. She fights off every urge to leave a mark. “He hasn’t looked away for the past five minutes.”

Without warning, Y/N moves her attention from his neck and kisses him, her lips pressing against his in a way that was both soft and urgent. Hotch froze for a split second, but then his hands gripped her waist, pulling her even closer as he deepened the kiss. He’ll probably scold her for the unprofessional action later, but they need to keep this guys attention if this is going to work.

It was electric, the tension between them igniting in a way neither of them had anticipated. Hotch’s hand moves upward, gripping the back of her head. If her eyes were open, they’d be rolling into the back of her head with the way he’s dominating her. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she kissed him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. For a moment, it didn’t feel like an act.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their eyes locked. Hotch’s expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

“He’s hooked,” Y/N whispered, her voice breathless. “We need to get him somewhere more secluded. Before he hurts someone else.”

Hotch nodded, his grip on her waist still tight as they made their way toward the exit. Once outside, the cool night air hit them, and Y/N quickly scanned the area, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the moment. She can’t see if the unsub followed them. The only light illuminating the area around them being the moon.

“We need to keep making this look real,” Y/N murmured as they moved toward a shadowed alley. “Just in case he’s still watching.”

Without warning, Hotch spun her around and pinned her against the wall, his body pressing into hers. One of his hands is still tight on her hip, the other one shooting up to her neck, squeezing it slightly to hold her in place. Y/N’s breath catches in her throat as Hotch’s eyes visibly darken.

“Is this believable enough for you?” Hotch whispers, his voice low and rough in her ear.

Y/N swallowed hard, enjoying the tiny amount of pressure on her throat. “Yeah… that’ll do.”

They stood like that for a few moments, their bodies pressed together in the darkness. Hotch plants open mouthed kisses from her cheek all the way down to her neck and across her chest, the neckline allowing him much needed access. Y/N sucks in a shaky breath, still waiting for any sign of the unsub. She could feel the tension between them, the heat radiating off Hotch’s body as he held her against the wall.

Suddenly, movement caught her eye. The unsub stepped out of the shadows, his gaze locked on them. Y/N’s instincts kicked in immediately. She shoved Hotch to the side, spinning around to face the unsub as he lunged at her.

In one swift motion, Y/N ducked under his arm, grabbing his wrist and twisting it behind his back. The unsub let out a grunt of pain as she swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Hotch was by her side in an instant, helping to restrain the unsub as they waited for backup to arrive.

When it was all over, Y/N stood there, breathing heavily, her heart still pounding from the adrenaline. She glanced over at Hotch, who was watching her with an unreadable expression.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

Y/N nodded, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Hotch’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he looked away, his expression unreadable once again. “Good work.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, despite the tension still thrumming between them. “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.”

As they waited for the team to arrive, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. The mission might have been over, but the tension between her and Hotch was far from resolved.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Y/N barely made it through the door of her hotel room before she kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief. Her feet ached from the hours spent in the club, and all she wanted was to peel off the red dress that clung to her like a second skin, take a long shower, and crash for the night. The team had successfully apprehended the unsub, and they’d earned a few hours of sleep before their early flight back to Quantico.

As she reached for the zipper at the back of her dress, a commanding knock on her door stopped her mid-motion. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was late, far past the time she expected anyone on the team to come knocking. Confusion settled in her chest as she moved toward the door, wondering if someone had an emergency or a last-minute update about the case.

When she opened the door, the sight that greeted her sent her heart racing.

Hotch stood there, but not like the composed, stoic team leader she was used to seeing. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his usually slicked-back hair had a slightly tousled look, as if he’d been running his hands through it. But it wasn’t just his disheveled appearance that threw her off—it was the way his dark eyes flickered with something raw, something he was barely holding back.

He looked… frazzled, but not in a scared or anxious way. No, this was different. It was the kind of frazzled that spoke of barely-contained desire, the kind that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff.

Her heart skipped a beat as his eyes swept over her, lingering on the red dress she was still wearing. His gaze darkened, his jaw tightening for a split second before he quickly looked back up at her face. But not quickly enough.

“Hotch?” she asked, her voice uncertain, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you doing here? It’s late—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Hotch stepped forward, forcing her to take a step back. He shut the door behind him with a firm push, the click of the lock sending a shiver down her spine. His entire presence was overwhelming, the space between them growing smaller with each passing second.

“Why are you still in that dress?” he asked, his voice low and rough, his gaze once again dipping to the neckline of her dress. It wasn’t a question borne out of curiosity; it was an accusation, a demand.

Y/N blinked, completely thrown off by the intensity in his eyes, the tension radiating off him in waves. “I—I just got back. I didn’t have time to—”

But before she could explain further, Hotch took another step forward, backing her up against the wall. His hands were braced on either side of her head, caging her in. The heat of his body was intoxicating, the scent of his cologne filling her senses.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice a low growl, “what the hell were you thinking?”

Y/N’s heart was racing now, her breath hitching as she stared up at him. His face was inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin. “What are you talking about?”

“The kiss,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “The way you touched me. What were you trying to do?”

Y/N’s lips parted in shock, her mind spinning. This wasn’t an interrogation—not really. This was something else, something charged with an energy she couldn’t ignore.

“I was trying to sell the cover,” she replied, her voice faltering slightly, though she stood her ground. “We had to be convincing.”

Hotch’s eyes flashed with something dangerous. “Convincing? You were doing a hell of a lot more than that.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as his words hung between them, thick with implication. The way he was looking at her, the way his body pressed so close to hers, sent heat pooling in her stomach. She could feel the tension crackling between them, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.

“What are you trying to say?” she asked, her voice quieter now, her heart pounding in her chest.

Hotch’s gaze bore into hers, his voice dangerously soft. “You know exactly what I’m saying.”

Y/N clenched her fists at her sides, trying to regain control of the situation, of herself. But the way Hotch was staring at her, the way his body was crowding her against the wall, made it nearly impossible to think straight.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You didn’t do anything wrong?” Hotch’s voice was thick with disbelief, and he leaned in even closer, his lips hovering near her ear. “You kissed your superior, L/N. You pushed yourself against me like a dirty whore. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Y/N felt her pulse quicken, her skin tingling where his breath brushed against her ear. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer. The heat between them was suffocating, and her body reacted in ways she couldn’t control.

“You kissed me back,” she shot back, trying to hold on to some semblance of control, even as her voice wavered.

Hotch’s hand slid down the wall, his fingers brushing against her arm, sending a shockwave of electricity through her. His lips were so close to her neck now, she could feel the warmth of them, but he didn’t touch her—at least, not yet.

“You want to talk about what I did?” His voice was a husky whisper. “Or do you want to talk about why you did it in the first place?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart racing. “What are you trying to get at, Hotch?”

“I’m trying to figure out what was going through your mind,” he said, his eyes dark with intensity. “You could’ve made it believable without kissing me like that. But you didn’t.”

Y/N’s skin flushed, and she fought to stay composed. “I did what I had to do to keep the cover intact. That’s it.”

Hotch’s lips twisted into a smirk that sent a ripple of heat through her. “Is that what you’re telling yourself?”

Her pulse was in her throat now, and she couldn’t ignore the way her body responded to his nearness, the way her mind spun every time his breath ghosted over her skin.

“You’re trying to act like you don’t care,” Hotch murmured, his voice low, predatory. “But you can’t stand it, can you? You’re as affected by this as I am.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, and she pressed her palms flat against the wall behind her, trying to ground herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You may be able to lie to yourself,” Hotch said softly, his hand brushing over her side, sending a shockwave of heat through her. “But you can’t lie to me.”

Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, her breathing uneven as the tension between them became unbearable. Every inch of her body was attuned to his, and the more they fought, the stronger the pull between them became.

“Maybe it’s you who can’t handle it,” Y/N shot back, her voice shaky, but defiant. “Maybe you’re the only one who’s affected.”

Hotch’s eyes darkened even further, and without warning, his lips crashed against hers, all of the tension, all of the pent-up frustration between them exploding in that moment.

Y/N gasped into the kiss, her body melting into his as his hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him. A certain wetness pools between her legs as his thigh spreads her legs apart. She grounds herself against him as the kiss builds. It’s fierce, heated, and Y/N can’t stop herself, her hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

It was overwhelming—the way his body pressed into hers, the way his lips moved against hers, demanding more. She could feel the heat between them building, igniting something deep within her that she couldn’t suppress.

For a moment, everything else faded away. The mission, the team, the rules—they all disappeared, leaving only the fire that burned between them.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to regain control.

“This is a bad idea,” Y/N whispered, her voice breathless.

Hotch’s hand slid up her arm, his fingers brushing against her neck. “I know.”

But neither of them made a move to stop.

No Place Like Home

Derek Morgan x reader

TW: Mentions of sexual assault on reader, murder, blood, violence, regular criminal minds stuff, angst with a happy ending, this gets very dark at some points so please read at your own discretion, I think that’s it. Lmk if I missed anything.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Baraboo Wisconsin.

Y/N L/N’s hometown. The one she left the second she turned sixteen and never looked back. Baraboo is a quaint little place, beautiful views and fun places to go if someone knows where to look. It’s a tight-knit community that’s for sure. Where everyone knows everyone and whatever secrets someone has also belong to the rest of the town. It can be endearing at times but also make an individual feel claustrophobic.

She never planned on coming back here. She graduated college at fourteen and worked her ass off to save enough money to leave by the time her sixteenth birthday rolled around. In fact, that was her birthday present to herself. To get the hell out of there.

Y/N’s father died when she was six years old. He was a hero, a firefighter. He died saving a family of six from a burning house. He was the only one who didn’t make it out alive that day. He managed to get every person out with minimal injuries. Just couldn’t seem to save himself.

After he died, Y/N’s mother, Lisa L/N, was a mess. Completely ignored her daughter after her husband’s, started drinking. Y/N practically raised herself. Until her step father came into the picture. Adrian Cole. The name itself gives her sickly chills just thinking about it.

Y/N continued her studies after getting her first bachelors degree at fourteen. She ended up with a doctorate and three masters under her belt by the time she turned eighteen. The girl is what most specialists would consider a “high potential intellectual.” She has advanced cognitive abilities that contain superior pattern recognition, enhanced situational awareness, an eidetic memory, advanced deception detection, superior deductive reasoning, mental simulation/scenario building, and advanced problem solving.

She’s rather valuable to say the least.

Y/N has had the world at her fingertips since she was born. She’s smart, cunning, calculated. She knows exactly how to get what she wants. Unfortunately, she doesn’t screw up from time to time.

Hence why she got arrested for petty theft when she was eighteen.

She had been working odd jobs for her entire life. Bouncing around from city to city, trying to find a place she could make her home. She somehow ended up in Quantico Virginia, a random bus stop on a long list of places she could go. But it had been a couple months since being there, and one week she didn’t make enough to get herself some basic grocery supplies, so she thought it wouldn’t be the most terrible thing to snag a loaf of bread on the way out of one of the many grocery stores in the city. She didn’t think they’d truly care about one loaf.

Clearly, she was wrong. They apparently needed that bread way more than she did.

And that’s how she ended up the in police station. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience at first. Most of the officers just thought she was some punk kid who got a kick out of stealing. She didn’t even bother trying to explain why she did what she did because they wouldn’t believe her in the first place. And it’s not like they could put her in the system, she was eighteen.

However, as they were processing her, she noticed some of the detectives talking about a murder investigation. They had a man who was found dead in his living room, and the prime suspect was the wife who mysteriously disappeared after it happened.

The thing about having advanced cognitive abilities, is that it’s easy to get stuck inside the many wrinkles of the brain. She also has a compulsive need to correct everything she sees is wrong, and that is why she interrupted their conversation by yelling across the station that the wife is actually a second victim, not the perpetrator.

Of course, most of the detectives thought she was full of crap and didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. The commander however, seemed to have a different opinion. She asked Y/N what made her think that the wife could be a victim in the case.

That led to her explaining that the photos in the crime scene board indicate that there was a third part, and that’s who killed the husband and kidnapped the wife. She pointed out how there were microfibers on the legs of the chair in the photo and that shows how someone had been tied to it with duct tape. And it clearly couldn’t have been the husband with the way there was no ligature marks or redness on his skin.

Needless to say, they found the wife and the person who killed the husband. Turns out it was his best friend who was having an affair with their son’s school teacher. The husband knew to much and threatened to tell his best friend’s wife which led to his demise. Who would’ve thought?

After that case, the commander offered her a position as a consultant on their cases. It gave Y/N the first feeling of stability she’s had in a very long time. She was even able to save enough to buy herself an apartment in the area, and put herself through the FBI academy. Her coworkers at the station were sad when they found out she had been recruited to one of the most elite units in the agency, but they knew her potential was to great to be stuck at the precinct for the rest of her life.

That’s why she’s currently back in Baraboo, the ripe age of twenty-five, with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit team. The leader, Aaron Hotchner, and the rest of the group: David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Doctor Spencer Reid, and the one and only… Derek Morgan.

From the moment Y/N met Derek, they clicked. They both have very similar traits but differ in the most important ways. They somehow manage to understand each other on a level that the rest of the team can’t comprehend. The two of them share flirty and playful banter constantly. Everyone in the office thought Penelope and Derek were bad, at least until Y/N sauntered in. She distinctly remember Spencer having to leave the room, his face flushed red after hearing a conversation between Derek and Y/N.

The two always brushed it off as a joke, or something they do to cope with the darkness of the job, but there’s always been a little something more lying underneath it. Neither of them have been able to acknowledge it out loud, but it’s not hard to see.

“How does it feel to be home, Princess?” Derek asks with his signature golden smile, full intention of getting a flirty reaction from her. He cracks his back as the rest of the team gets off the jet, getting ready to split up and head to the station or to the most recent crime scene.

Y/N keeps her eyes trained in the distance, her face cold, hard almost. “This hasn’t been my home for the past nineteen years,” she replies stoically before walking off to join Hotch and Rossi by one of the SUV’s.

Derek is taken aback by her demeanor. She’s never been one to turn down an opportunity to flirt or be witty, especially with him. Y/N has always been a bit closed off, but in the same way Derek is. She doesn’t tell anyone about her past, and she’s never asked him about his. It’s one of the many things he loves about her. She didn’t push when she knew not to. In fact, the most they knew about where the other came from was home towns. Now he did share some about his family because they’re important to him, and so is Y/N, but he never delved too deep. That is until about last year when he was arrested for murdering three boys back home.

Y/N was the only one who tried to help without digging to deep into the things Derek didn’t want found. It killed her a little bit to see how Derek broke down when confronting the real perpetrator, Carl Buford, who also molested Derek as a child. That particularly made it a rough case for her, for more than one reason.

“Reid, JJ,” Hotch calls out to the two. “I want you guys to head to the station with Rossi, see if you can nail down a geographical profile.” The trio nods before heading over to their own SUV. “Prentiss, you come with me to talk to the most recent victims family. Morgan, L/N, head to the crime scene. Sheriff Mills will meet you both there to discuss the rest of the details.”

Y/N nods silently before turning back to Derek. She gestures towards the third black car waiting for them, walking past him and over towards the driver’s seat. Derek grabs her wrist gently as she tries to open the door, “Babygirl, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Following orders,” Y/N answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh-uh,” Derek shakes his head. “Get your cute little ass in that passenger seat right now.” He demands.

“Derek, we don’t have time to argue over who’s gonna drive the damn car,” Y/N snaps, completely out of character. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

His eyebrows shoot up into his nonexistent hairline, “Whoa,” he puts his hands up. “I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I just like driving you around, that’s all. I thought it was like a little silent agreement we had. You being my passenger princess.”

Y/N’s face softens, but he can still see the anger behind her eyes. There’s definitely something wrong. She’s never been like this without a reason. A small sigh escapes her pink lips, “Okay…” she mumbles, very cutely in Derek’s opinion. “You can drive.”

Without another peep, Y/N climbs into her designated spot besides Derek. He casts her an unsure glance, wondering if maybe she’ll open up to him on the way to the scene, but unfortunately the entire ride was quiet. Apart from the playlist playing in the background. They both had created it for when they were partnered together on a case.

They pull up to the scene, no words uttered between them. Y/N stares out the window, sucking in a deep breath. Her knuckles are a pale white as she clutches onto the door handle. He wants to ask her what’s going through her mind, but knows better than to push when she’s like this.

She steps out of the vehicle, the gravel crunching beneath her feet, Derek following closely behind. As soon as they near the crime scene, she spots Sheriff Mills standing by the perimeter tape, arms crossed but eyes bright when he recognizes her.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Y/N L/N!” Mills calls out with a smile, his voice booming across the lot. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How long’s it been?”

Y/N offers a small, genuine smile, feeling a rare sense of warmth. “Hey, Sheriff. It’s been a while. Nine years, I think.”

“Nine years,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “You disappeared on us, huh? Look at you now.” He glances over at Derek, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Y/N glances between the two men. “This is Derek Morgan, one of the best profilers at the BAU.”

Derek steps forward and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” Mills replies, shaking Derek’s hand firmly before turning back to Y/N. “You always had it in you to do something big.”

Derek watches the brief exchange with interest, noting how Y/N seems more at ease around the sheriff. There was history here, but also a quiet sense of trust. The sheriff gave Y/N a comforting nod before stepping back to let them work.

They cross under the yellow tape and into the scene, where the victim’s body lay partially covered. Derek’s voice is low but steady. “What are we looking at?”

Y/N knelt beside the body, her jaw tightening as she takes in the brutal injuries. “Ligature marks on the wrists and ankles…looks like she was tied up, maybe tortured before…” She let her words trail off, her eyes lingering on the deep gash across the victim’s neck. “The unsub wanted control, dominance. But there’s rage here too.”

Derek nods, crouching down next to her. “The way he escalates...it’s personal. There’s something he’s trying to prove with each kill. Could be revenge or a power trip.”

Y/N swallows hard, her breath hitching for a moment as she takes in the scene. She stands, brushing her hands on her pants as if trying to rid herself of the heaviness in the air.

Derek stands too, noticing the slight shift in her demeanor. He narrows his eyes, stepping closer to her. “You alright?”

Y/N hesitates, casting a glance back at the body. The familiarity of it all—the victim, her face—was a knife in her chest, twisting cruelly.

“I knew her,” Y/N finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “Her name’s Claire. We…we went to high school together.”

Derek’s brows furrow, concern flashing across his face. “You didn’t mention that at the briefing.”

She shrugs her shoulders, jaw clenching. “I didn’t think it would be relevant. I haven’t spoken to her in years.” Y/N turns away, looking out into the distance as if trying to find something to balance herself, her mind.

Derek’s hand gently rests on her shoulder, his touch grounding her in a way she wasn’t expecting. “If this is too much, you don’t have to–”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, though the sharpness in her tone is more for herself than him. She looks at Derek, the vulnerability showing through her usual hard exterior. “I just didn’t expect this.”

Derek softens. “You don’t have to be fine, Y/N. Not here, not with me.”

For a moment, their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. But Y/N quickly broke away, determined to stay focused. “Let’s just…get back to work. We have to find this guy.”

They both turned back to the crime scene, their focus shifting back to the task at hand. But the air between them was heavier now, weighed down by the past that had resurfaced with a vengeance.

“Whoever did this,” Derek says quietly, “they knew how to get close. Claire trusted them.”

Y/N nods, her jaw clenched tightly. “He’s not a stranger to any of these women. He’s someone who knows how to blend in. And he’s getting more comfortable.”

Derek meets her eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. They have to catch this unsub before anyone else suffers the same fate. But now, more than ever, Y/N had a personal stake in it. And Derek was going to make sure that, whatever happened, he’d be there for her.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

The police station is humming with quiet intensity, the kind of buzz that always fills the air when the team is piecing together fragments of a case. They’ve been working nonstop, and the weight of the victims is hanging over all of them. Every detail matters now, every tiny revelation could lead them closer to the truth.

Hotch stands at the head of the room, looking over the maps, notes, and pictures strewn across the table. JJ, Reid, and Rossi are gathered around, quietly talking through the geographical profile they’ve been working on. Emily leans against the wall, flipping through her notes from the victimology interviews. Derek and Y/N, just back from the most recent crime scene, stand a bit apart, their body language tense but focused.

Hotch looks up from the map, his expression sharp and business-like. “What did you find at the crime scene?”

Derek steps forward, his eyes catching Y/N’s briefly before he speaks. “The victim was restrained before she was killed. Ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. She was tortured—cut up pretty bad across her torso. He took his time with her. Cause of death was strangulation, but the wounds came first.”

Reid frowns, looking over at the crime scene photos pinned to the board. “That suggests control. He didn’t just want to kill her, he wanted to inflict pain, assert dominance.”

Rossi nods in agreement, his tone grim. “He’s trying to break them down before killing them. Likely projecting some internal conflict, something personal.”

Y/N stands a little off to the side, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She hasn’t said much since they got back, but Derek knows that look. She’s running the details over and over in her mind, trying to process everything.

Derek glances at her again before continuing. “He’s gotta be in his late 40s or 50s. Strong enough to overpower, but methodical enough to take his time with them.”

Emily pushes off the wall and approaches the table. “We’ve seen it before. Someone with deep insecurities who compensates by dominating their victims. There’s probably a sexual element involved, even if it’s not immediately obvious.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment, taking in all the information. Then he asks, “Was there anything else? Anything personal about her?”

There’s a pause. Derek hesitates, his eyes flicking over to Y/N again. He’s been waiting for her to say something, but she’s been holding back. She looks tense, almost like she’s somewhere else entirely.

Y/N clears her throat, feeling the weight of Hotch’s attention on her. “The victim... her name was Claire.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Y/N shifts slightly, her voice a little quieter. “I knew her. We went to the same high school.”

That draws everyone’s attention. Reid, JJ, and Emily all look at her with surprise. Rossi’s eyes narrow in thought. Hotch’s expression shifts from curious to stern in an instant.

“You knew her?” His tone is sharp, almost accusatory.

Y/N nods, though it’s clear she’s uncomfortable. “Yeah, but... we weren’t close. I hadn’t seen her since high school. I didn’t even realize it was her until we were at the scene.”

Hotch’s jaw tightens, clearly frustrated. “And you didn’t think that was something we should’ve known?”

Before Y/N can respond, Derek steps in, his voice firm and protective. “She didn’t know until we got there, Hotch. This isn’t something she was hiding. It just hit her at the scene.”

Hotch’s gaze shifts to Derek, his expression still hard, but he doesn’t argue. There’s a beat of silence, the tension palpable in the room. Y/N looks down at the floor, her jaw clenched, clearly battling with the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

Reid, ever the analyst, chimes in. “If Y/N knew the victim, that could mean the unsub has a connection to her past as well. It’s possible he’s targeting women from the same community.”

JJ nods thoughtfully. “If the victims are all from the same area, it might explain how he’s able to blend in so easily. He knows them, at least in passing.”

Y/N swallows hard, feeling the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her. She’s never liked being the focus of attention, especially not when it comes to something this personal. She hates how it feels like she’s under a microscope right now.

Derek steps a little closer to her, his hand brushing her arm lightly, a silent reassurance. His voice softens, just for her. “You okay, babygirl?”

She forces a tight smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine.”

Rossi taps the edge of the map in front of him. “If this unsub is blending in with his victims, he’s not the type to stand out. He’s attending social gatherings, getting close to them before striking. He’s comfortable in these environments.”

“That’s how he’s avoiding detection,” Emily adds. “He’s slipping under the radar, appearing harmless.”

Sheriff Mills, who’s been standing quietly in the back of the room, finally speaks up. “You think he’s been attending community events?”

Rossi nods. “It’s likely. He’s integrating himself into their lives without raising suspicion.”

The sheriff frowns, thinking for a moment. “Well, Diane Cole—one of the most prominent women in town—she hosts a weekly Sunday luncheon. Half the community shows up after church.”

Y/N’s entire body goes rigid at the mention of the name. Her breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding suddenly in her chest. The rest of the team doesn’t miss the way her expression changes, the way she seems to freeze in place.

Hotch notices it immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Y/N? Why does that name mean something to you?”

Y/N tries to keep her composure, but it’s slipping. She feels exposed, vulnerable, like the walls she’s spent years building are crumbling around her. Her voice comes out strained, barely above a whisper. “Because Diane Cole is my mother.”

The room falls silent. No one says anything for a moment as they process what she just said. The different last names had kept them from connecting the dots until now, but the revelation is staggering.

Rossi’s eyes soften with understanding, but Hotch’s expression grows darker. He takes a slow breath, his frustration evident. “You didn’t think to tell us that your mother hosts one of the biggest events in town? One that our unsub no doubt plucks his victims from?”

Y/N shakes her head, her voice cracking slightly. “She and I... we haven’t spoken in years. I left home when I was sixteen, Hotch. It’s not like I’m going out of my way to connect with my mother. She’s not—” She stops herself, not wanting to open that door. “She’s not apart of my life. We’re not close.”

Hotch is clearly irritated, but before he can say anything else, Derek puts his hand on Y/N’s back, his voice low and calm, but with a protective edge. “Look, Hotch, this isn’t easy for her. She’s not keeping things from us on purpose. Let’s just focus on what we know and move forward.”

Hotch stares at Derek for a long moment, clearly weighing his words. Finally, he nods, letting the issue drop for now. “Alright. The luncheon is our best lead. Y/N, Derek, Emily—you three will come with me and we’ll see if anyone stands out. We need to be cautious. We don’t know what this guy looks like yet, but he’s dangerous.”

Y/N swallows hard, nodding along with the rest of the team. She feels Derek’s steady presence beside her, his hand on her arm again, grounding her. She meets his eyes for a brief moment, grateful for his unwavering support.

“We got this,” Derek murmurs, just for her. His voice is soft but full of confidence.

Y/N takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “Yeah. We do.”

As the team breaks off to prepare for the next steps, Y/N lingers for a moment, the weight of what’s to come settling heavily on her shoulders. She’s about to walk back into a part of her life she thought she’d left behind for good, and the thought terrifies her. But with Derek by her side, she knows she can face it. She has to.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

The drive to Y/N’s childhood home is filled with a heavy silence. Derek occasionally glances over at her, but she stares straight ahead, her face unreadable. He knows she’s shutting down, retreating into herself as the memories she’s been trying to bury claw their way to the surface. The tension in her body has been there ever since they received word that the unsub might be attending her mother’s Sunday luncheon, and it hasn’t left her since.

As the car pulls up to the house, Y/N’s stomach knots. The familiar two-story building looms in front of them, looking almost exactly the same as it did the day she left nine years ago. The white picket fence, the flower beds her mother used to tend to religiously—everything looks frozen in time, untouched by the years she’s been gone.

Derek cuts the engine and turns to her. “You sure about this, princess?”

Y/N swallows hard, forcing a small nod. “Yeah.”

She isn’t sure. Not even close. But she’s here for the case, and that’s what matters. She can’t afford to let her emotions get in the way of the investigation, no matter how much being here is already tearing her apart.

They step out of the car, and Derek moves beside her, a steady presence as they walk up the path. Hotch and Prentiss are already ahead, scanning the area as they approach the front door. Y/N’s eyes flick around, taking in the familiar sights—the swing set that used to creak with the wind, the porch steps she used to sit on every evening, staring at the stars. All of it feels distant, like a life that belongs to someone else.

As soon as they step onto the porch, the front door swings open. Diane Cole, Y/N’s mother, stands in the doorway, her face lighting up in a wide smile. “Y/N!” she exclaims, her voice filled with warmth and hospitality as if no time has passed at all. “Oh, my goodness, it’s been so long!”

Y/N’s body tenses as her mother wraps her in a tight embrace. The scent of her perfume—familiar, suffocating—fills Y/N’s nostrils. She stands stiffly, arms at her sides, not reciprocating the hug. She can feel Derek’s eyes on her, the weight of his concern palpable, but she doesn’t move.

Diane pulls back, her hands still on Y/N’s shoulders, beaming at her. “Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.”

Y/N forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hi, Mom.”

Diane doesn’t seem to notice her daughter’s coldness or, if she does, she ignores it. “Come in, come in!” she says, ushering them inside with a wave of her hand. “Everyone’s already here. We were just about to start lunch.”

Y/N steps inside the house, the familiar creak of the floorboards under her feet making her stomach turn. The smell of roast chicken wafts through the air, mingling with the sound of chatter coming from the dining room. It’s all so painfully familiar, like stepping back into the life she left behind.

Hotch and Prentiss follow them in, their eyes scanning the room, already analyzing the guests milling about. Derek stays close to Y/N’s side, his presence grounding her, but even that isn’t enough to quell the anxiety bubbling up inside her.

As they move into the living room, Diane can’t seem to stop talking. “It’s so wonderful to have everyone here. We do this every Sunday, you know. Just a little gathering after church. Keeps the community close.”

Y/N nods absently, her eyes flicking around the room. She’s searching for something—someone—though she’s not entirely sure who she’s looking for. The unsub is here. That much they know. But standing in this house, surrounded by people she hasn’t seen in years, feels like walking through a minefield.

Diane turns to Derek, her smile still plastered on her face. “And who’s this?”

Diane’s smile widens. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, Derek. Please, make yourself at home. We’ve got plenty of food, and if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Derek replies politely, though his attention is already back on Y/N. He can see how tense she is, the way her eyes are darting around the room, scanning faces, assessing the crowd. She’s in work mode, but there’s something deeper, something more personal eating away at her.

As they move further into the house, Diane continues to chatter, offering drinks, asking about their work, pretending as though she hasn’t been estranged from her daughter for nearly a decade. Y/N barely listens, her mind racing as she takes in every detail, every face.

As they began to split up, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. She’d always preferred to keep her distance from the noise and chaos of family gatherings, and today was no different. “I’ll check the backyard,” she suggested, hoping to create some space between herself and the tension inside.

“Be careful,” Derek said quietly, watching her with concern as she slipped outside.

Once she stepped into the backyard, the sun was almost too bright, illuminating the vibrant flowers in the garden but doing nothing to warm the coldness settling in her bones. She leaned against the wooden railing of the porch, breathing deeply, attempting to ground herself.

For a moment, it was quiet. The chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves filled the air, allowing Y/N to momentarily escape the chaos inside. But just as she started to relax, the back door creaked open. She turned to see Adrian, her stepfather, stepping onto the porch. The brightness of the day dulled as he approached, his confident demeanor wrapping around her like a shroud.

“Y/N,” Adrian said, his voice dripping with feigned warmth. “It’s been a long time.”

Y/N stiffened, her pulse quickening. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to keep her tone steady despite the rising tide of panic.

“I came to check in on you,” he takes a silly step closer to her. “You’ve grown up so much,” he said, his eyes scanning her with a mixture of familiarity and something more invasive. “You know, your mother is worried about you. You should visit more often.”

Y/N felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. “I’m fine. I don’t need checking on,” she replied firmly, trying to keep her tone from betraying her nerves. “And I have a busy job. I don’t have time for trivial visits.”

“Really? You’re fine? Because you look like you’re about to bolt. I thought we were past this.” Adrian’s voice turned sharper, an edge of annoyance creeping in as he crossed his arms over his chest.

At that moment, Derek stepped out onto the porch, instantly sensing the tension in the air. He glanced between Y/N and Adrian, picking up on the shift in Y/N's posture—the way her shoulders were tense and how she seemed to shrink back.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Derek asked, concern lacing his voice.

Adrian turned his gaze to Derek, sizing him up as if trying to gauge his intentions. “And who might you be?” he asked, feigning curiosity but with a hint of challenge.

“I’m SSA Derek Morgan with the BAU,” Derek replied, his tone neutral but his stance protective. “We’re here to investigate.”

“Investigate?” Adrian scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “What do you need to investigate in a place like this? It’s just a house.”

“Everything in here could be important,” Derek replied evenly, maintaining eye contact. He felt the tension simmering in the air, aware that any hint of aggression could escalate quickly.

Adrian took a step closer to Y/N, invading her space. “Well, Y/N and I have a lot to discuss, don’t we? Family matters are important. So I think it would be best for you to continue your investigation inside.” There was an underlying threat in his tone, one that made Derek’s instincts flare.

Derek shifted forward, placing himself between Adrian and Y/N, his presence a solid wall. “She doesn’t seem to want to talk,” he said firmly, glancing back at Y/N, searching for reassurance in her eyes. “I think you should give her some space.”

Adrian’s demeanor shifted slightly, his confidence cracking as he tried to reassert himself. “Space? I’m her stepfather. I have every right to speak to her.”

“That doesn’t mean you have the right to make her uncomfortable,” Derek replied, his voice steady but edged with authority. He wasn’t here to play games—he needed to protect Y/N, especially if something felt off.

Adrian’s smile faded as he took another step forward, his eyes darkening. “You’re just some guy, aren’t you? An FBI agent trying to play hero. What do you know about family?”

Derek squared his shoulders, refusing to back down. “I know that family should support one another, not intimidate. And from what I can see, you’re not doing that.”

Y/N felt the tension spike, her heart racing as she sensed Adrian’s irritation boiling beneath the surface. Derek was standing his ground, but she could see the way Adrian’s demeanor shifted—his posture becoming more aggressive.

Adrian’s gaze flicked between Derek and Y/N, and she felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You don’t know her like I do. I’m trying to help her,” he said, his voice lowering as he leaned closer to Derek, trying to assert dominance.

“Help her?” Derek echoed incredulously, his tone clipped. “By pressuring her? You’re not helping anyone but yourself.”

“Watch yourself,” Adrian warned, his voice turning low and menacing. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”

Derek’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer to Adrian, matching his intensity. “And you don’t know who you’re threatening. Back off.”

Just then, Y/N felt the walls closing in around her. Adrian’s words were wrapping around her like a vice, squeezing her heart and pushing her instincts into overdrive. She could feel herself being pulled in two different directions—Derek’s protective stance grounding her but also reminding her of the past she was trying to escape.

“Y/N,” Adrian said, his tone shifting again as he turned back to her, that familiar manipulation creeping into his voice. “You don’t have to listen to him. I’m just looking out for you.”

She shook her head, the memories crashing over her like a wave. “I don’t need you to look out for me,” she said, her voice firm but low, trying to keep it steady as her hands trembled at her sides. “I’m done with that.”

Derek shot her a glance, noticing the shift in her demeanor. “Y/N, you okay?” he asked, concern thick in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but the strain in her tone betrayed her.

Adrian smirked, the kind of smile that sent a chill down Y/N's spine. “Look how protective you are of her,” he said to Derek, his voice dripping with mockery. “Isn’t that sweet?”

“Enough,” Derek said sharply, stepping further in front of Y/N, his body a shield. “You’re crossing a line.”

Adrian’s demeanor darkened, his posture becoming more aggressive as he looked back at Derek, trying to assert his dominance. “You think you can just waltz in here and play protector?”

“Believe me man, I’m not playing,” Derek replied, his voice low and steady.

That was when Y/N felt the weight of everything pressing down on her. She couldn’t stand it. Adrian’s presence, the memories flooding back, and the way Derek was standing up for her—it was all too much. Without another word, she turned and walked briskly toward the front door, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

“Y/N!” Derek called after her, but she was already moving, her heart pounding in her ears.

She rushed through the living room, her mind racing. She felt a wave of anxiety surge as she stepped outside, the sunlight hitting her face, but it felt distant, almost cold.

“Y/N! What happened?” Prentiss shouted, following her outside. The concern in her voice echoed in Y/N’s mind.

“I just... need a minute,” Y/N replied quietly, trying to control the tremble in her voice.

Hotch stepped outside, his brow furrowed as he assessed the situation. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone serious.

“Nothing,” Y/N breathes heavily, her chest heaving from anxiety and anger. “Nothing, I-I I’m fine.” She didn’t want to relive it; she didn’t want to talk about Adrian or the past. “I don’t want to discuss this.” She shakes her head rapidly.

“Why are you upset?” Prentiss pressed gently, her eyes filled with concern.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Y/N finally snaps, her voice slightly rising as she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She turned away from them, needing to find a way to breathe, to think without the weight of their gazes on her.

“Y/N, please,” Derek said softly, stepping closer but remaining respectful of her space. “Talk to us. We’re here to help.”

She shook her head, feeling the panic rising within her. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice breaking. “I just– I cant. I’ll jeopardize the case if I go back in there. And I can’t do that to those women. I can’t mess this up.”

With that, she turned and strode toward the SUV parked at the curb, the need to retreat overwhelming her. She climbed into the back seat, shutting the door firmly behind her, pressing her forehead against the cool glass, desperately trying to find calm in the chaos that had erupted.

“Y/N!” Derek called again, but she didn’t respond, her heart racing as she stared out the window, willing the memories to stay buried and the present to fade away.

The team gathered outside, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern as they exchanged worried glances. “What do we do?” Prentiss asked, glancing from Hotch to Derek.

“We give her space,” Hotch replied, his voice steady. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Derek clenched his fists, frustration coursing through him. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he knew that pushing would only make things worse. “I hate this,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the closed door of the SUV.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/N closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe, to find calm in the chaos swirling around her. She couldn’t let Adrian’s presence ruin everything she had worked for, everything she had fought to build. But deep down, she knew the shadows of her past wouldn’t let her go so easily.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Walking back into the police station, Y/N managed to get the entire teams attention without even speaking. The unfortunate part about working with such observant people is that even if she breathes a little too heavy, they can tell exactly what she’s thinking. And let’s just say her breathing is way different than what they would consider her “normal.”

Spencer, JJ, and Rossi all watch with concerned eyes as Y/N practically storms into the designated room they have for the case, slamming the door behind her. The glass windows shake from the force and she places her hands on the table before zeroing in on the case board in front of her.

Hotch, Emily, and Derek walk in, their own cautious gaze setting everyone on edge. Rossi looks at the trio, pointing back at the fuming agent in the other room. “What happened there?”

Hotch states after his younger agent, tilting his head as he tries to gauge whether she’s more upset or angry from beyond the window. “Something set her off at the house,” he answers.

“Not something, someone,” Emily corrects with a worried sighs. “As soon as her stepfather showed up, it was like her entire world stopped. And not in a good way.”

“Stepfather?” JJ furrows her eyebrows.

“Adrian Cole,” Reid answers for them, causing everyone to look at him confused.

“And how did you know that?” Hotch questions flatly.

“When she mentioned Diane was her mother, I did some digging and asked some of the other officers about her,” Reid admits with a harsh swallow as he notices Morgan glaring in his direction. No doubt for probing into Y/N’s life. “Diane got married to Adrian when Y/N was eight years old. Three years after her father died. He’s currently fifty-two, eight years older than Diane. I guess everyone was pretty surprised to find out they were seeing each other,” Reid reveals. “Sheriff Mills told me that it was the talk of the town when it originally happened. Adrian was kind of a recluse, not approached by many, kind of a ‘creep’ as described by the deputies,” he gestures over in the other direction. “So it was surprising to find out that Diane ended up with him, especially since she married her high school sweetheart, Y/N’s father, Daniel L/N.”

“So she kept her father’s last name,” Rossi points out, glancing back over to Y/N. “Shows how much she truly wanted to distance herself from her mother. Not taking her new husband’s last name.”

“Or maybe she was just closer with her dad,” JJ suggests.

“Or maybe her stepfather never got over his ‘creep’ reputation,” Emily scoffs out. “Gotta admit, if he was my stepdad, I wouldn’t want his last name either. I mean, the way he walked up to Y/N… it was almost predatory.”

Derek stands off to the side, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He listens to the conversation but doesn’t say anything yet. He’s been watching Y/N closely ever since they walked into her mother’s house, noticing every shift in her demeanor, every tell-tale sign that she was far from okay. Now, hearing the others discuss her like she’s some puzzle to solve only makes his jaw tighten.

“We can’t just sit here and talk about her like she’s not in the other room,” Derek’s voice breaks them out of their conversation. “We shouldn’t be discussing and probing into her life without talking to her first.”

“She doesn’t exactly look like she wants to talk, Derek,” Emily points out. “She kind of bit our heads off when we originally tried to get something out of her. We’re just trying to get an idea so we can help.”

“Well maybe instead of talking about her we should be talking to her,” Derek says snippily. “Then we might actually be able to get her to open up.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, “You think she’ll open up?”

“To me? Oh, I know she will,” Derek nods his head confidently. “She trusts me. If anyone is going to get through to her, it’s me.” He says, his voice steady, though there’s an edge of protectiveness in his tone.

Without waiting for anyone else to respond, Derek heads toward the room where Y/N disappeared. The others exchange quick glances, knowing Morgan has a point. He’s closer to Y/N than anyone else on the team, and if she’s going to talk to anyone, it’s him.

Inside the room, Y/N stands in front of the caseboard, her eyes scanning over the photos and files without really seeing them. Her mind is racing, and it’s written all over her face. Derek walks in quietly, closing the door behind him. He watches her for a moment, his eyes softening as he sees the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s gripping the edges of the table like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Princess," he says softly, using the nickname he knows she responds to when she’s upset. "You okay?"

Y/N doesn’t turn around, her voice coming out strained. "I’m fine, Derek."

He takes a step closer, his tone gentle but firm. "No, you’re not. Talk to me."

She lets out a shaky breath, still not looking at him. "It’s... it’s nothing. I just—there’s too much going on. I need to focus."

Derek’s not buying it. He steps closer until he’s standing next to her, he gently places his pointer finger under her chin, lifting her head up to him. "Y/N, look at me."

Reluctantly, she allows him to lovingly adjust her head, her eyes meeting his. The moment their gazes lock, Derek can see it—the fear, the anger, the confusion. She’s holding it all in, trying to keep herself together, but it’s a losing battle.

"You don’t have to do this alone babygirl,” Derek says softly, his voice full of concern. "Whatever’s going on, you know I’ve got your back."

For a second, she looks like she’s going to say something, but then she shakes her head, turning away from him again. "It’s just... I don’t know, Derek. I don’t know what to do, what to say,” she huffs frustratedly. “Things are a lot more complicated than everyone thinks they are.”

He watches her, giving her the space she needs but staying close, his presence solid and unwavering. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just talk to me."

Y/N’s breath hitches, and she suddenly steps back from the caseboard, running a hand through her hair as she starts to pace. "It’s not just about Adrian, okay? There’s... there’s something else."

Derek watches her carefully, his eyes tracking her movements as she starts to unravel. "What is it?"

Y/N’s mind is moving a million miles a minute, pieces clicking together as she starts connecting the dots. She stops pacing and stares at the board again, her heart pounding. "I found the connection," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Derek’s brow furrows. "What?"

Y/N swallows hard, her hands trembling slightly as she starts flipping through the files. "It’s me,” she admits shakily. “I’m the connection,” she rushes out, throwing files left and right. “The girls. I know all of them. I guess I haven’t been processing faces until now, trying to block out the memories I have here, but I can’t do it anymore. These women…” her hands tremble as she moves. “They’re dead because they knew me.”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart, slow down,” Morgan places his hands on her shoulders gently to get her to stop rambling. “What do you mean you’re the connection? You haven’t been here in over nine years.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, letting the warmth of Derek’s hands try to slow her mind. It works momentarily, but does nothing to slow her racing heart at the realization that she could be the key to this entire case. And she did exactly what she promised she wouldn’t. She jeopardized it. Ignored the fact she faintly recognized each victim. Ignored the nagging feeling in her brain that something was off. Thats why the team has been struggling to track the unsub, because they’ve been missing one key element. The connection between the victims. Why he picks them.

“They were all part of the same support group I was in when I was a teenager.” She swallows thickly, rubbing her now sweaty, nervous hands on her slacks. “All of them. That’s why I recognized Claire... and the others.”

Derek steps closer, his voice low but urgent. “A support group? For what?”

Y/N’s chest tightens as the memories flood back, memories she’s tried so hard to bury. "For survivors of abuse. Sexual abuse."

There’s a beat of silence as Derek processes what she’s just said. His jaw tightens, his protective instincts kicking in even harder. "Y/N..."

She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Her eyes dart across the files, her mind racing as she speaks faster. "This isn’t just random. He’s targeting them, Derek. The girls from the group. I don’t know why, but he’s going after them. And now... now it’s happening again. They went through something so evil and vile as kids and now… now they’re being killed for it.”

Derek takes a step forward, his hand reaching out to gently grab her arm, grounding her. "Hey, slow down. We’ll figure this out, okay? You’re not alone in this."

“Derek, what if that means I’m next?” She asks him. “We have five victims, and there was only six people in the group. I’m the only one left.” She moves back to the case board, trying to see if any new information will reveal itself after this epiphany. “And it-it’s not like a lot of people knew about it…” she mumbles. “It was a private group, very secluded. It was us and whoever we chose to tell about our experience.”

“Babygirl…” The way Derek calls out to her, she can already tell exactly what question he’s going to ask next. Which is the main reason why she didn’t tell him sooner. She’s been trying to avoid the answer to this question for her entire life.

“Who did this to you?”

Y/N freezes, her eyes traveling down to her feet. She fights off the tears welling behind her eyes, needing to stay strong. This can’t have a hold over her anymore. She can’t keep living like this. In terror of returning to the place she used to call home.

“Adrian,” she says, her voice cracking. She doesn’t even have to turn to Derek to know his fists are clenched. She can feel the anger radiating off of him at the revelation. It all makes sense to him now. Why Y/N’s been acting off since getting to Baraboo, why she was uncomfortable in her childhood home, why she looked like she wanted to run and hide the second Adrian approached her. He violated her in a way no person should ever be violated. In a way that he understands all too well.

He manages to get ahold of his fury, walking closer to her. He sits down in the chair directly next to her body. He reaches out, grabbing her hand and rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. “How long?” He asks, a pained tone in his voice.

She keeps her eyes trained on her shoes, “Ten to fourteen,” she says barely above a whisper. “I went to the support group until I left for college at sixteen.” Y/N sits down next to him, almost hiding within herself. “Most of the other girls were older than me,” her eyes barely graze over the crime scene photos.

“Babygirl, this went on for four years? Did you tell anyone?” Derek wonders, not judging because he didn’t say anything either.

“I tried–” her voice cracks again as she chokes back her tears. She clears her throat to regain her composure, “I told my mom,” she admits quietly. “But she didn’t believe me. She told him I told her and that’s when things went downhill. She called me a liar, told me no one would believe me. Adrian played the victim throughout the whole thing, but the same night he came into my room and–” she sucks in a deep breath. “He told me it was my fault. That he was being so nice to me for doing what he was doing. Told me I wouldn’t make it without him or his help. And I was just a kid,” she sniffles. “I was scared out of my mind. I couldn’t defend myself because I believed him. And my own mother didn’t even think I was telling the truth. How could I tell the police?”

Derek doesn’t say anything but moves forward to pull her in for a hug. He holds her tightly and she slowly melts into his chest. They both can feel the eyes of the team on them, but choose to ignore it. “That’s why I went to the support group.” She continues, slightly muffled by Derek’s chest. “Because they were feeling the same way I was. Even if the people who did it to them were caught and put away, they still understood what it felt like.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to have to relive this, but I gotta ask… Who else knew about these meetings?” He lifts her head up, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Anyone that you can think of. If you truly believe you are the key to this case, you’re the only one who would know.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Y/N says honestly. “Whenever I would go I would say it was for tutoring or book club. I didn’t want them to know I was looking for help. But the other girls could’ve told someone. I don’t think they did though. When we went it was for us. To help us cope. We didn’t feel the need to tell anyone else because we had each other.” Her forehead creases as she tries to think of someone who could’ve been aware. “I guess the only other person who would’ve known is the girl who facilitated it. She graduated five years before I even got there. Got a degree in psychology. I think she actually became a therapist here.”

“Would she have told anyone?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “She was big on confidentiality. That’s why we all trusted her.” She thinks back to try and remember any detail she could. “Her name is Candy Brown. Dark hair, a couple inches shorter than me, real organized, had set schedules and certain ticks. Like borderline OCD. She would have to click her pen three times when moving onto a new person while taking notes.”

“She kept records?” Derek’s face suddenly morphs into one of extreme concern. “Y/N, if she wrote down everything you guys ever told her, someone could’ve easily found the notes and that’s how our unsub got his information. That’s how he could’ve figured out who was in the group.”

“We need to tell the team,” Y/N looks out the window towards the group of people who haven’t moved since Derek came to talk to her.

“Baby–”

“No,” she shakes her head, using her right hand to cup the side of his face. She looks him in the eyes genuinely for the first time since arriving in Wisconsin. “It’s okay,” Y/N reassures him. “This is information that pertains to the case and can help catch our unsub. They need to know.”

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

After telling the team all about her past, Y/N felt embarrassed but overall relieved. She could tell they were heartbroken for her, but none of them went too overboard with it, knowing it would make things worse if they coddled her over it. She was grateful to have Derek with her. She wouldn’t have been able to get through it without having a panic attack if he wasn’t holding her hand all the way through it.

Hotch sent her and Derek to find Candy and ask if she had lost her notes in recent months while him and the rest of the team delivered the more updated profile. Now that they had all the information, they could get a better idea of who this guy is.

Y/N was almost in awe of how large Candy’s building was. Sheriff Mills had given her and Derek the directions to get there, and it was almost refreshing seeing someone from that time in Y/N’s life flourishing. Especially since the other girls didn’t even get the chance to.

Walking into the office, Derek and Y/N flash their badges at the receptionist, informing her of who they are and why they’re here. She quickly guides them to Candy who is fervently writing down information.

“She just got done with a patient,” the receptionist whispers. “She’ll be done any second now.”

Suddenly the dark haired woman’s head shoots up, but not before clicking her pen three times. The same thing she needed to do when trying to move on from person to person.

“Candy Brown,” Derek begins, walking up to the woman to respectfully shake her hand. Y/N follows after him, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, and this is–”

“Y/N L/N,” Candy finishes, a mixture of shock and confusion in her voice. A small smile crosses her face as she takes in the now adult woman in front of her. “Wow,” she breathes out. “I haven’t seen you in–”

“Nine years?” Y/N finishes.

Candy nods, “Yeah.” She furrows her eyebrows, looking in between her and Derek, “What’s going on? I know your guys’ team is here investigating the murders, but why are you here?” She asks curiously.

“You remember the support group you created when I was here?” Y/N immediately jumps into the conversation, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“Yes?”

Y/N takes another step forward, analyzing the room around her, “I don’t know if you realized, but all of the victims were participants in the group.”

“Of course I realized,” Candy says. “That’s why I was so surprised to hear that you not only came back but are also working on a case where you could be a potential target.”

“And you weren’t worried about being a target?” Derek asks, brow quirked.

“No,” Candy answers with a small shrug. “After he killed Laura-”

“The second victim,” Y/N adds for clarification.

“Yeah,” Candy nods. “After I found out she was killed, I knew it was a matter of time before the others went.”

“And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?” Derek folds his arms, not understanding how she has so much intel on the case.

She swallows thickly, looking around and avoiding eye contact with the two agents. Y/N tilts her head, narrowing her eyes which makes the shorter woman squirm. “Candy…?” Y/N says expectantly.

“I thought they would’ve told you by now,” Candy starts. “I had a different office before this one. My old one burned down after it was burglarized.” Her explanation makes Y/N’s stomach twist in multiple different directions. Her and Derek make eye contact, knowing exactly where this is going.

“Let me guess, this all happened around two months ago?” Derek sighs when he watches Candy nod her head.

“Yeah. So someone did tell you?”

“No,” Y/N corrects. “That’s just when our unsub started killing.” She looks at Candy with a serious expression, “Listen, I need you to think long and hard about who could’ve had access to your office. Who also might’ve taken too much of an interest in the work you do with sexual abuse survivors.”

Derek elaborates more on the profile, “He should be a white male, late 40s to early 50s. He acts confident as a way to overcompensate for his past failures. He can be a bit of a creep sometimes but tries to cover it up with a facade of charm. He’s become an influential member of the community, but he wasn’t always that way. He had to claw his way up.”

Candy’s brows are furrowed in thought as she thinks deeply about what they’ve said. Her mind goes over the different people that were employed with her, those who spoke to her about her work, who showed interest. That’s when her eyes light up. She looks at Y/N, her lip quivering.

“What?” Y/N asks, immediately noticing the shift. “Candy, what is it?”

“The only other person who could’ve had access to my office in the other building was the cleaner I hired,” she answers. “I hired a third party to come later at night so my day janitors and custodians could go home earlier during the day.”

“Do you remember who this third party is?” Derek asks urgently, getting ready to phone Hotch.

Candy’s face falls, “It was Adrian,” she reveals quietly. Y/N feels like she’s been shot in the chest when the words leave her old friend’s lips. “He’s had this free lance cleaning business for some time now. It’s been pretty successful with all the small businesses around here. He was always asking questions after my meetings, but I would never tell him much. You know I wouldn’t betray Doctor-patient confidentiality like that.” Y/N nods along with the statement. “But after you left, the girls continued to see me. We met in group settings until I built my practice and then they started coming individually. Just for someone to talk to.”

“Did you still keep handwritten notes?” Y/N questions.

“Yeah,” Candy nods. “It’s the most efficient way for me to keep my thoughts organized. But there was one evening I remember that Claire came in and she was telling me how she felt isolated from the community. It was something all the girls had been hinting at, but I didn’t take it seriously until I realized all of them had said it. I was frustrated that I didn’t see them all asking me for help. So when Adrian came in that night, I just said that some of my clients felt alone.” She mentally facepalms, “I know I shouldn’t have even engaged in conversation, but he was just being so involved and nice about it. That’s when he told me to invite them to your mom’s luncheon.”

“And did they go?” Derek questions.

“Yes,” Candy nods. “I encouraged them to go together as emotional support. They all went to the same one.”

Y/N sighs, realizing they’ve already spoken to their unsub and let him get away. “And let me guess, it was the Sunday before your office was burglarized?”

Candy rubs a hand over her face, “And their files were the only ones unaccounted for.”

“Y/N, we need to call Hotch,” Derek tells her seriously. “We’re gonna need backup.”

She nods, a more than determined expression on her face. “Let’s go.”

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Rolling up to her mother’s house twice within the span of a day was unexpected for Y/N, but she’s determined now more than ever to make sure this visit leaves an impact. The woman is the first one out of an SUV, darting towards the door with her gun ready in her hands. Derek follows closely behind, accompanied by Hotch and the rest of the team.

Diane’s car is in the driveway, so Y/N knows this isn’t going to go as smoothly as she desires. If she could just go in and take Adrian down, she would. But she knows her mother is going to try and fight it.

Hotch gives the signal, and Derek pushes the door open, stepping in first with Y/N close behind. The rest of the team fans out, guns at the ready, but Y/N’s focus is singular: Adrian.

Diane is in the living room, flipping through a magazine. She looks up, startled to see them. “Y/N?” she says, her voice warm with surprise. She stands, smiling tentatively, “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

Y/N’s throat tightens as she looks at her mother. The warmth, the confusion in Diane’s eyes—it almost feels like any other visit, except this time, it’s not. “We need to talk to Adrian,” Y/N says, her voice steady but distant.

Diane frowns, glancing at the rest of the team behind her daughter. “What’s going on? Why do you need to talk to him?” Her smile fades slightly, but there’s still an air of disbelief as if this can’t possibly be serious.

Hotch steps in, his voice professional, calm. “Where’s Adrian, Mrs. Cole? We need to speak with him.”

Diane looks between Y/N and the team, her confusion deepening. “He’s in the bathroom. But what’s this about?”

Y/N feels the familiar dread creeping in, the same doubt her mother always carried. She avoids Diane’s gaze and nods toward the hallway, signaling to Derek and Rossi. “Go get him.”

As Derek and Rossi head toward the hallway, Diane’s tone shifts, becoming more defensive. “Wait, Y/N, what’s going on? You can’t just barge in here—”

Y/N feels a knot form in her chest, but before she can respond, Derek’s voice calls out, sharp. “Adrian! We know you’re in there. It’s over!”

There’s a clatter from the bathroom, followed by silence. Y/N’s eyes dart toward the hallway, tension crackling between them all. She can’t breathe, waiting for the door to open, for Adrian to step out.

Diane’s face hardens now, the warmth fading. “Wait, you think Adrian had something to do with these murders you’re here for?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “This is absurd. He hasn’t done anything!”

Derek reappears at the doorway, his eyes locked on Adrian as he exits the bathroom. Adrian’s face is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to his voice as he looks from Derek to Y/N. “What’s this about?”

“We know what you’ve been doing,” Y/N says, her voice breaking the silence, though her throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. The weight of her past is crashing down all at once. “We know you found out about my old support group and have been preying on the women.”

Diane’s eyes widen in shock, her voice turning sharp. “Wait—what? This is what you’re accusing him of?” She turns to Y/N, disbelief clear in her expression. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. You’ve always had it out for Adrian—”

“Mrs. Cole, stop,” Derek interrupts, his voice firm as he steps between Y/N and her mother. His protective instincts kick in, but there’s a bite in his words now as he faces Diane directly. “You didn’t believe her then, and I get that you don’t wanna believe her now, but this isn’t a game. He’s connected to multiple murders.”

Diane’s face turns pale as the words sink in, but she shakes her head, her hands trembling slightly. “You’re wrong,” she says, her voice breaking. “Adrian wouldn’t—he didn’t do anything.”

Y/N feels the sting of her mother’s disbelief. After everything, Diane still won’t accept it. Derek glances at Y/N, his voice lowering but full of fire. “She’s your daughter. You should’ve protected her. Instead, you’re defending him.”

Adrian looks like he’s about to speak when Diane steps in front of him, as if shielding him. “Y/N, this is insane. You’re arresting him for murders? You’re destroying our family—again!”

Y/N snaps, emotion flooding into her voice, “Do you even hear yourself? Do you understand what’s happening right now?” She doesn’t want to raise her voice, but it’s like years of anger are bubbling to the surface. “He hurt me. He manipulated me, and now other women are dead because of him!”

Diane looks at Y/N with wide eyes, as if she can’t process what she’s hearing. “You’re lying,” she says quietly, her voice shaking. “You’re making this all up. You always blamed Adrian for everything—”

Y/N’s heart twists painfully in her chest. Even now, her mother doesn’t believe her. Derek’s jaw clenches as he steps forward, practically growling now. “She’s not lying. She’s been through enough, and it’s time you started listening to her instead of defending this monster.”

Adrian, sensing that things are slipping out of his control, sneers at Derek. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Derek’s eyes are sharp as he glares back, full of unspoken anger. “I know enough.”

Hotch steps in then, signaling Spencer, Rossi, and Prentiss. “We’re taking him in,” he says, his voice calm but decisive.

Diane stumbles backward as Morgan pulls Adrian’s arms behind his back to cuff him. “You can’t do this!” Diane cries out, her hands shaking as she reaches for Adrian.

“Ma’am I’m going to need you to step back,” Prentiss warns, her voice firm but not unkind.

Diane turns to Y/N, desperation in her eyes. “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this.”

Y/N’s throat tightens again, the pain almost unbearable as she looks at her mother. “I didn’t do this. He did.”

As they haul Adrian toward the door, Derek stays by Y/N’s side, his hand gently resting on her arm. He leans in, his voice softening just for her. “You alright?”

Y/N can barely nod. “I just… I need this to be over.”

Derek squeezes her arm gently, the tension between them unspoken but palpable. “We’ll make sure it is,” he says quietly. “He’s not gonna hurt you anymore.”

As Adrian is led out, Y/N watches him disappear through the door, the weight of everything she’s carried for so long finally starting to lift. Derek stays close, his protective presence like a shield around her.

“I should’ve seen this sooner,” Y/N whispers, her voice full of regret.

Derek looks at her, his eyes full of something deeper, something he hasn’t said yet. “This isn’t on you,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ve got him now.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, her heart pounding, but there’s a strange sense of relief starting to creep in. Maybe, finally, this part of her life is coming to an end.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

In the interrogation room, Adrian Cole lounges in his seat, his cocky smile never wavering as Hotch and Derek sit across from him. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a cold, sterile glow, but Adrian is undisturbed, clearly enjoying himself. His eyes flick between Hotch and Derek, and there’s something calculating in the way he looks at them, like he’s already planning his next move.

Hotch keeps his voice steady, professional. “Adrian, we know about your connection to the women in the support group. Candy Brown confirmed that you used to work for her, that you were asking questions about the survivors. You were studying them, weren’t you? Figuring out how to get close.”

Adrian leans back in his chair, chuckling lightly. “Questions? You mean me being polite? Curious, maybe? Come on, Agent, that’s hardly a crime.”

Derek’s jaw tightens, but he remains composed. “You fit the profile. We know you’ve been stalking these women. We know Y/N was your real target all along.”

Adrian’s smile grows wider, his eyes shifting to Derek. “Oh, Agent Morgan. I see why you’re here now.” He leans forward, the playful tone in his voice turning darker. “This isn’t about the profile, is it? It’s about her. You’re here because of Y/N.”

Derek’s gaze hardens, but he doesn’t take the bait. “I’m here because of what you did.”

“What I did?” Adrian raises an eyebrow, mockingly confused. “You mean what you think I did. You’re just mad because you know I got to her first.”

The air in the room seems to thicken with tension as Adrian watches Derek’s reaction, clearly enjoying the game he’s playing. Hotch tries to redirect. “This isn’t about Y/N. It’s about the six women you killed.”

But Adrian’s eyes stay locked on Derek. “Six women… sure, that’s bad. But you know what’s worse, Derek?” He leans forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Knowing she’ll never be yours. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to protect her, you’ll always be too late. You can’t fix what’s already broken.”

Derek clenches his fists under the table, the muscles in his jaw working as he forces himself to stay calm. Adrian’s words are cutting deep, hitting exactly where he intended.

“You’re wrong,” Derek growls, barely keeping his composure. “She’s stronger than you think. And you’ll never touch her again.”

Adrian’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Strong? Sure. Strong enough to get away from me last time. But the thing is, Derek… people like her? They always come back. It’s just a matter of time.”

Derek leans in, his voice deadly quiet. “You’ll rot in prison before you ever get that chance.”

Adrian sits back, casually crossing his arms over his chest, his grin widening. “We’ll see.”

Hotch, sensing Derek’s rising anger, stands up. “We’re done here.”

Derek hesitates for a split second, his eyes still locked on Adrian, but then he rises as well. Adrian chuckles lowly and his eyes follow Derek as he moves toward the door. “Leaving already, Derek?” Adrian’s voice drips with mockery. “Y/N must have told you everything by now. How she couldn’t resist, how much she used to like it when I—”

Derek spins back around, his anger breaking through for just a second. “You need to shut your mouth.”

Adrian’s smile only widens as he leans forward, reveling in Derek’s reaction. “Touched a nerve, did I? Guess it’s not just Y/N’s mind I wormed my way into, huh?”

Before Derek can step closer, Hotch holds out an arm, signaling him to back down. He knows Adrian is trying to bait Derek into losing control. “We’re leaving,” Hotch repeats firmly.

As soon as the door to the interrogation room shuts, Derek finally lets the anger show on his face. “That guy is a real piece of work,” he mutters under his breath. He paces, trying to rein in his emotions. Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, and Spencer are waiting, their expressions tense.

Hotch nods, his expression grim. “He knows how to manipulate, how to get under people’s skin. That’s why he’s dangerous. But we need a confession.”

Derek shoots him a look, his voice hard. “You’re not seriously thinking about sending Y/N in there.”

“She’s the only one he’ll talk to,” Hotch replies, his tone even, though there’s clear discomfort in his eyes. “He’s too focused on her. He won’t crack for us, but with her, he might.”

“She doesn’t need to be anywhere near that psycho,” Prentiss adds, backing Derek up.

Rossi nods, his arms crossed. “He’ll try to manipulate her, Hotch. He’ll push all her buttons. You know how dangerous that could be.”

Hotch looks around at the team, his face unreadable, but resolute. “He’s not going to talk to anyone else. Y/N’s the reason this is all happening—he’s fixated on her. If we want a confession, we need her.”

Derek is still pacing, shaking his head in frustration. “Hotch, you know what he’ll do. He’ll tear her apart mentally.”

“Derek…” Y/N’s voice cuts through the tension as she steps forward, her face calm but determined. “I need to do this.”

Derek looks at her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “No, Y/N. You don’t have to do this. Let someone else handle it.”

Y/N meets his gaze, her voice steady. “It has to be me. He won’t talk to anyone else, and you know it. I’m the one who has to end this.”

Derek runs a hand over his face, still conflicted, but he knows she’s right. He can see the resolve in her eyes, the same determination that’s been driving her since this case started. After a long moment, he nods, though it clearly kills him to do so. “Fine. But I’m right outside the door. The second you need me, I’m coming in.”

Y/N gives him a small, appreciative smile. “I know.”

With a final glance at the rest of the team, Y/N walks into the interrogation room. Adrian’s eyes light up the moment he sees her, his grin returning.

“Well, look who it is,” he says, leaning back in his chair like he’s just been handed a gift. “I knew you’d come.” His eyes flicker with amusement as he takes in her demeanor. She’s calm. No sign of fear on her face, making his fists clench. “You always were a clever girl, Y/N. Smart enough to know what you wanted but never strong enough to follow through. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You think you’ve won.”

Y/N narrows her eyes. “I didn’t come here to win anything, Adrian. I came here to end this.”

He scoffs, leaning forward again, his tone dropping to a darker pitch. “End what? You think locking me up will change anything? You’ll still be thinking about me. You’ll always be connected to me. You and I, Y/N, we’re the same.”

Y/N’s lips curl into a tight smile. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not like you, Adrian. I’m stronger because I don’t need to control anyone to feel powerful. You? You’re nothing. You never were. You thought you had control over me, but really, you were just a pathetic coward trying to feel important.”

Adrian’s jaw tightens, but Y/N can see the flicker of anger behind his eyes. She presses on, her voice dropping to a cold, cutting tone.

“You couldn’t control me, Adrian. That’s why you went after those other women. You thought by killing them, you’d finally feel like you had power over something. But deep down, you knew the truth. You’re impotent. You can’t control anyone, least of all me.”

His hand twitches on the table, and his smirk falters. Y/N knows she’s hit a nerve.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Adrian hisses, his voice venomous. “You think you’re untouchable? I killed those women because they were weak! They were nothing compared to you! But I did it for you. Every one of them, Y/N! Every one was for you, to remind you of what I can do.”

His face twists with fury as he leans in, practically spitting the words now. “I did it because I knew it would bring you back to me. And guess what? It worked. You’re here. And when this is over, you’ll never forget me.”

Y/N doesn’t flinch, her eyes cold and unwavering as she meets his gaze. “You’re right about one thing, Adrian. I won’t forget you. But not because I’m scared or because you have any hold over me. I’ll remember you as the pathetic, cowardly man who couldn’t even face his own failures. You killed those women because you couldn’t handle the fact that I got away from you. That I beat you.”

Adrian’s face is red with rage now, his fists clenched as he glares at her. He’s lost his cool completely, no longer the charming manipulator he was trying to be. He’s exposed.

Y/N stands up slowly, looking down at him with calm, cold eyes. “You wanted me back in your life? Well, congratulations, Adrian. You’ve got a one-way ticket to prison, and the only time you’ll see me again is when you’re rotting behind bars.”

She leans in just a little, her voice dropping to a near whisper, her words like ice. “I won. You lost. And the worst part for you? You’ll spend the rest of your miserable life knowing I never belonged to you.”

Adrian’s face twists in a snarl, but he doesn’t say anything. Y/N doesn’t need him to. She’s already shattered his delusions.

As she turns to leave the room, she pauses in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder one last time. “Enjoy prison, Adrian. You’ll be surrounded by men just like you. Maybe they’ll remind you of what real powerlessness feels like.”

She walks out without looking back, leaving Adrian sitting there, fuming and defeated.

Outside, the team watches through the observation window. Derek’s eyes never leave Y/N as she steps into the hallway, her expression unreadable but victorious.

As soon as she’s out, Derek moves toward her, his voice low and full of quiet admiration. “You were incredible in there.”

Y/N gives him a small smile, but it’s bittersweet. “It’s over.”

Derek steps closer, his voice softening. “You did it, Y/N. You took him down.”

She nods, but before she can respond, her mother’s voice cuts through the moment. Diane, standing at the end of the hall, her eyes wide with shock and regret, had heard every word of Adrian’s confession.

“Y/N…” Diane’s voice trembles, her face pale as she takes a tentative step forward. “I didn’t know. I didn’t believe you and I’m—”

“Stop,” Y/N says, her voice sharp but not raised. She turns to face her mother, eyes hard. “I forgive you, Mom. But I’ll never forget what you did. Or didn’t do.”

Diane’s face crumples as she stares at her daughter, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Y/N. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know how to—”

Y/N cuts her off again, shaking her head. “It’s too late. You had years to believe me. Years to help me. I’m done waiting for you to care.”

Diane reaches out, but Y/N takes a step back, her face unreadable. “Take care of yourself, Mom. I don’t need you anymore.”

With that, Y/N turns and walks away, the weight of years of pain finally lifted from her shoulders.

Derek watches her go, admiration and sadness flickering in his eyes. He catches up to her and without a word, pulls her into a tight embrace, holding her like he never wants to let go.

“You did good babygirl,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You did real good.”

Y/N lets out a shaky breath, leaning into him. “It’s really over,” she whispers, and for the first time, she truly believes it.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Y/N stood in her kitchen, stirring the lavender tea she had made for herself, hoping the soothing scent would calm her nerves after the intensity of the past few days. The warmth of the mug seeped into her hands as she glanced at the clock—it was late, and for the first time since they wrapped the case, she was alone. It was a rare, precious quiet. She wore her comfiest pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair thrown into a messy bun as she padded over to the couch.

She sank into the cushions with a sigh, trying to let the exhaustion slip away. Just as she curled up, ready to embrace the quiet, a knock came at the door.

Her brow furrowed. Who could it be at this hour? A part of her tensed, but when she peeked through the peephole, her face softened.

Derek.

A smile immediately spread across her lips as she quickly unlocked the door and swung it open. "Derek," she said, warmth filling her voice. "What are you doing here?"

He stood there, dressed casually in jeans and a fitted t-shirt, but the warmth in his dark eyes was what made her heart flutter. He held a small box in his hands, the edges of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I couldn’t let you be alone after everything,” he said softly. “And... I brought you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, eyeing the box with curiosity. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Derek stepped forward, holding the box out to her. “Carrot cake. Figured you could use a little sweetness after the last few days.”

Y/N’s smile brightened, and she laughed softly, the tension of the case beginning to melt away. “You remembered it’s my favorite.”

“Of course I did. I remember everything about you,” he said, his voice low and teasing, but there was an underlying sincerity in his words.

She took the box from his hands, shaking her head in amusement. “I think I need something sweeter than carrot cake, though.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow, that signature smirk playing at his lips. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Y/N met his gaze, her voice soft but playful. “You.”

The smirk on Derek’s face softened into something more tender as he watched her, his dark eyes flickering with a mixture of admiration and something deeper. “Is that right?”

She stepped aside, motioning for him to come in. “Come on, might as well share the cake if you’re here. I’m not letting you leave just yet.”

Derek chuckled as he stepped inside, glancing around her cozy apartment before his eyes landed back on her. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

They moved to the living room, and Y/N placed the cake on the coffee table, her heart lighter now that Derek was here. The weight of the last few days seemed to lessen in his presence.

“So,” Derek said as they sat together on the couch, their knees brushing. “How are you holding up?”

Y/N exhaled, leaning back against the cushions. “I’m... okay. Honestly, I’m better now that you’re here. But it’s been a lot. I didn’t think I’d ever have to face him again, let alone...”

She trailed off, and Derek reached out, placing his hand gently on top of hers. “You don’t have to explain. What you did back there? Y/N, you were incredible. You stood your ground. You faced him head-on, and you came out stronger.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling at the tenderness in his voice. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said quietly. “You were right there the whole time, and knowing that... it made it easier.”

Derek’s hand slid up from hers, his fingers lightly brushing her cheek before he cupped the side of her face. His touch was warm, grounding. His voice lowered, filled with awe. “Y/N, I’ve always been in awe of you. Always. But after this... what you just went through? You’re the strongest woman I know.”

Her heart fluttered as his thumb softly stroked her cheek, his eyes searching hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the space between them charged with something unspoken but undeniably strong.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, and she let herself lean into his touch. “Derek...”

Before she could say more, Derek’s eyes flicked to her lips, and in a soft, almost tentative movement, he leaned in and kissed her. It was tender, a kiss filled with emotions that had been building for so long. Her hand found its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm as she kissed him back, letting the warmth of him pull her in.

When they pulled away, their foreheads rested together, and Y/N smiled softly. “That was...”

“Long overdue,” Derek finished for her, his lips brushing hers again in a whisper of a kiss before he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “You’re amazing, you know that? I’m proud of you. And I’m not just saying that because of this case. I’ve always been proud of you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened with emotion, and she bit her lip to keep her smile from spreading too wide. “You’ve always been my rock, Derek.”

“And you’ll always have me,” he said, his voice low and certain, like a promise.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Derek still holding her close, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in days. She rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers still lightly touching his hand.

Derek wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer as they sank deeper into the couch. Neither of them felt the need to speak anymore, the warmth of their closeness enough.

Eventually, the exhaustion from the case caught up to them. Their breaths evened out as they lay together, bodies intertwined on the couch, the world outside fading away as sleep overtook them.

For the first time in days, Y/N finally felt at peace, knowing she was exactly where she was meant to be—in Derek’s arms, where everything just felt right.

Bau x reader , where the reader is a little bimbo

Yeah so , I didn't really like this one and it is small , but here it is ig

Warnings: nothing really , some cat calling(?)

Summary: you are a bit naive and the bau kinda lives you about it(?)

They all had a lot of questions

How could a person like you end up in job like this

Don't get me wrong, you were good at your job and all helping them out

You were exactly stupid

You just were a bit- naive

You would be out with any of the team members, and someone would cat call you

You just couldn't understand that this was derogatory so you'd smile at them

If you were with Morgan ,Hotch or Emily except the person to be slightly threatened to never speak you way again

If it's Pen , Reid,Rossi , or JJ they would give the person a nasty glare

In the crime scenes they always wanted to remove you from there , but you somehow had no problem with that kind of thing

I don't know why but I think that especially Hotch would love a bimbo reader

Maybe it's the way you look up at him with those big eyes of yours , or the way your lips pout when you do t understand something

They all have cutesy nicknames for you them being ' darling , love , angel '

And a bunch of others

Expect to be SPOILED

And I don't mean just with gifts and all but also with hugs , forehead kisses and sweet gestures in general

This is one of my favorite scenes

Criminal Minds 7.04 | Painless

Criminal profiler, Federal agent

Born in 1981

Spencer

Spencer Reid

.

.

.

.

Criminal profiler, Federal agent

Born in 1981

Spencer

Spencer Reid

Come on, Spencer, you can do it

Pave the way, put your back into it

Tell us why, show us how

Look at where you came from,

look at you now

Cat Adams

and Tobias Hankel

and Diane Turner

Amateurs, can fucking suck it

Fuck their wives, drink their blood

Come on, Spencer, get 'em!

Ik it’s not Wednesday for a lot of people but it still is for me so suck it

If u haven't noticed yet, i am a woman of many opinions. And guess what i have a new theory/ opinion that i need to share. It's about criminal minds to be more specific about the relationship between Spencer Reid and Maeve in season 8 (SPOILER WARNING).

So in 8x10 of criminal minds, spencer said that Maeve wanted to meet him and that he doesn't care what she looks like because she is already the most beautiful girl to him. Here the clip from youtube:

And folks when I tell u this boy got me blushing by saying this, because its so uncommon that guys think u r beautiful no matter what... especially as a chubby girl who's been bullied most of her life, stuff like what spencer said just does things to u. And believe me i know what i'm talking about.

Anyway back on track. The line from spencer made me blush and mad at the same time, because this and the relationship with maeve had been so much more meaningful when it really didn't matter what maeve looks like. And don't get me wrong, i like maeve and i love the relationship between spencer and her but look a her.

she is a very beautiful and in fact very skinny white girl. and this is not meant in any body shaming way, i think she played the role of maeve very well. But folks as a chubby girl i am hurt whenever a show gives the opportunity for a female character to be not conventionally beautiful but still chooses the saves option. With the sentence from spencer "I don't care what she looks like, she is already the most beautiful girl to me" the show Producers had the opportunity to create an unconventionally beautiful maeve. Do i make sense? Like instead of choosing a skinny, white woman with long hair, they could have chosen and chubby, black woman with short hair (for example). This would just underline the sentence from spencer in 8x10 and it would show how much spencer doesn't care about the looks of women. But now it's like "No wonder genius boy doesn't care about her looks when she is that pretty even in society's eyes" yk? This ist just something i can't stop thinking about... i would have like it more, especially since the opportunity was given and different body types/ black representation is very important (at least in my eyes). In my opinion this would've make the relationship even more special and so uncommon and beautiful... idk just a thought. Could be wrong though.

Let me know that you think about this and whether or not my rambling made any sense.

ANYWAY i wish y'all a marvelous day, kissies!

BYE <3 <3

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader)

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) Word Count: 14,842 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: mentions of murder, crime scenes, guns, near-death experiences, slow-burn romance, drug addiction, death, and some MAJOR FLUFF! Spoilers: none, as Criminal Minds has been out for literal decades so don't get mad.

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer, and one time he says it back in the same fashion.

This man has been eating my brain alive for the past few weeks and I know I'm late but damn he deserves all the appreciation he gets. This was just a silly little idea I had because I'm the kind of person to get obsessed quickly and can't move on until I write it out of my system. Seeing how long this turned out, I have split each moment into six smaller, digestible chapters as linked below. Enjoy xx

Full Story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Spencer Reid was performing some of his physics magic for his colleagues when he first saw you.

He'd just mixed up some water with an antacid tablet and placed within a film canister. He'd done it a hundred times on his own, but he'd only just joined the BAU two months ago, and JJ and Derek hadn't seen it before so he just had to do it. Quickly placing the lid on, he said, 'You can turn around now.'

'I don't understand why we had to in the first place,' Derek said as he grumpily turned around.

'A magician never tells his secrets,' Spencer said, rubbing his hands gleefully. To him, showing off his intellect never got boring.

Well, show off wasn't the proper term. He understood that he could be a lot for some people, knowing so much for a man in his early twenties that looked barely old enough to be out of school, let alone with three Bachelors and PHDs under his belt already. Spouting little known facts or remembering minute details about cases that went back thirty to forty years was just his way of expressing himself. It was his way of contributing to the team. And while his team was getting used to his ramblings and intellect, even demonstrated admiration for it, others would call him a freak.

'If you ask me,' JJ said, 'I wouldn't want to know how he does some things.'

'Fair,' Derek replied, all their eyes on the film canister.

Spencer watched it in anticipation, how the bubbles slipped out between the lid and the canister slowly at first, then started bubbling faster and bigger and-

POP!

The canister rocketed up towards the roof, and all three of them watched with wide eyes as it arced over the bullpen and then down to meet the-

'Ow!'

Spencer ducked into his chair as he watched a young lady in a loose button up shirt, dress pants and boots pat her head. He heard JJ and Derek scurry away, but Spencer remained staring at the woman. Who is she? he thought, his eyes scanning over her.

Your (h/c) hair caught the sunlight, giving it a glow that had Spencer mesmerised. Your (s/c) skin shone with it, making your (e/c) eyes stand out most beautifully. And when you stood back up and made eye contact with him, canister in hand, he found himself frozen, unable to avoid the conclusion that he was the culprit.

'What is this, Reid?' Hotch said, walking up to his desk not looking the least bit impressed. 'Actually, don't answer that. Just don't do it again.'

'Sorry,' Spencer murmured out, a guilty smile stretching his lips slightly.

Hotch blew out a sigh. 'Never mind that now. I would like to introduce you to our new team member. Agent (Y/n) (L/n), a transfer from LA.'

Spencer finally realised that you had walked up with Hotch, and now that you were so close (literally standing a desk apart from one another), he was lost for words at how bright your smile was, and how beautiful you looked that way.

'So you're the one that thought my head was a good landing place for your little... rocket,' you said offering the film canister back, laughter dancing in your words.

It took Spencer a moment for him to realise you wanted him to take the canister back, so he scrambled to his feet, fingers fumbling for the canister. 'No, I-I was just showing how a-an antacid reacts with water, and how, put into a small, confined place, that can cause a chemical, gas-like reaction and cause it to exploded.'

'And launch it like a rocket?' you asked.

He paused as he watched your smile slip a little. Oh no. He'd done it again - made someone feel dumber than him. And while technically that was true, he never meant to make anyone feel like that.

'Y-Yeah?' he answered, awkwardness rising up in his throat, freezing his limbs, his brain.

But then suddenly your smile returned, melting his fear and doubt as you said, 'Cool! I've always loved chemistry. I actually did a Bachelor of Science with a major in archaeological science and a minor in chemistry before I started my BA in Criminology.'

'And now you're here,' he said, a soft smile of his own tugging at his lips.

You nodded, looking around what would now be your new home. 'And now I'm here.'

'Fascinating,' Spencer breathed out. He didn't mean to, but it made you smile more so he didn't mind. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't introduced himself. He struck out his arm, rigid as a board, and offered his hand. 'Sorry, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'Pleasure to meet you, doctor,' you said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. You skin was as soft as it looked, Spencer noted. 'I very much look forward to working with you and the rest of the team as we go forward.'

'We've got a briefing in five minutes, Reid,' Hotch interrupted, moving to step away from the conversation. 'I'll introduce you to the rest of the team then, (L/n). And if I find you firing another film canister through the sky, Reid-'

'Yes, yes, sorry, no more rockets. Airspace Reid is officially grounded,' Spencer quickly replied, not wanting to get lectured like a twelve-year-old like he usually did.

Your tinkling laughter drew his attention back to you, and he was baffled by the wonderment dancing in your eyes as you looked at him. 'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'T-Thanks?' he replied, although he wasn't quite sure if you were making fun of him or not. Most people did if they didn't straight up tell him he was annoying.

Hotch walked away, but you remained for a moment, leaning in close to whisper, 'That's a good thing, by the way.'

'Oh. Right.'

You flashed him one last smile before following your new unit chief, falling back into easy conversation with him as you gracefully floated through the chaotic goings of the office. Spencer couldn't take his eyes off you as you did, in awe of your grace and poise, and how you didn't even stumble when you spoke with him. You were genuine, upfront and honest. You couldn't be much older than himself, he noted, perhaps even younger. He was used to being the baby of the team, but it looked like that would be changing.

The prospect of being able to connect with someone his own age sent an unfamiliar but not unwelcome flutter through his heart.

'Oh, you've got it bad.'

Spencer spun in his chair to see JJ and Derek standing behind him once more, watching him with knowing grins.

'What? What have I got?' he asked. 'I'm not sick... I don't think.'

JJ rolled her eyes and giggled as she walked away, Spencer just catching a quiet, 'This'll be fun,' as she did. But Derek walked closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, and that knowing grin stretched wider, more feline and cheeky.

'Don't worry, pretty boy,' he said. 'You'll figure it out soon. You're smart, right?'

'Well, smart isn't really the quite term for someone with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187-'

'And pep talk is over,' Derek interrupted, abruptly walking away back to his desk and leaving Spencer in a disarray of emotions.

So he looked back to where you had gone, and found you speaking with Penelope, nodding enthusiastically to whatever she was talking to you about. But you weren't just being polite, you appeared genuinely interested in the conversation, even though Spencer noted you barely contributed to it.

'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

All his life, Spencer had been told he was a genius - gifted, different. It had just become an effortless part of who he is. It was almost expected at this point to see weirded-out or overly-amazed expressions from people he didn't know. So why then, when you said that to him, did he feel happy about it?

He checked his watch. Almost briefing time. He got up from his seat and made his way to the briefing room where only a place beside you was available. Maybe he would find out soon enough.

~

It became a casual thing, for you to comment on how wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid was. Every day in the office, whenever you travelled to cases, even out in the field, sometimes in not-so-great situations.

It was only ever once, but you always managed to find something to say, 'You are a wonder, Dr Reid,' to him. Sometimes it was his full name, sometimes just doctor. Sometimes, he was just Spencer. Apart from JJ, you were the only one who ever really called him by his first name. Oddly enough for him, he liked it when he was just Spencer, not the Boy Genius or freak or computer.

But the next time you told him that and it meant something to him was ten months after he ended his drug addiction.

He sat at his desk in the bullpen finishing some paperwork, or at least attempting to. They'd just gotten back from a long and exhausting case and his brain (the very thing he knew he could always rely on) refused to coordinate with his hands and eyes. The information he wished to write out felt jammed at his fingers tips, appeared blurry in his vision.

'Gosh,' he breathed out, leaning back in his seat defeated as he rubbed at his tired eyes. No doubt black bags sagged beneath them.

It had been a long, exhausting case. The team had gone to Dallas to find a serial killer who'd been leaving a trail of dead doctors and pharmacists over the span of months which had suddenly turned into weeks, then days once the team joined the case.

The unsub had spiralled, devolved so to say, alluding to a psychotic break. But when they'd found him, he was not the malicious, sadistic person they'd first expected. Spencer was the first on the scene and had instead found a young man in his early twenties, not much younger than himself. All he'd wanted was some off-market narcotic that took away the pain from the physical abuse he received from his father.

And while Spencer's trauma was not the same, he couldn't help but see the parallels. When he'd looked the young man in the eyes, it was like looking into a mirror. All he saw was himself, drowning in his own trauma, his own fear, his own pain.

Spencer scoped the bullpen, suddenly noticing the silence. Not a single person was left. He then looked at his watch - half past ten. He hadn't noticed people leaving whatsoever. Not surprising considering his current state, his current condition.

Spencer slowly reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, a sudden urge coursing through him to do so. Slowly again, almost hesitantly, he pulled it open and leafed through the many spare manilla folders that sat oddly in there until he reached the bottom.

It was just one vial, but just the mere sight of it sent relief rushing through Spencer. Dilaudid. He gently cradled it up to his eyes, admiring how the glass doors of the entrance became obscured as he looked through the transparent but murky liquid. After this case, what he wouldn't give to have a needle right now. Just one hit-

'Well, if it isn't Dr. Spencer Reid burning the midnight oil.'

Spencer almost dropped the vial as he scrambled to shove it deep into his pant pocket just as you appeared out of nowhere from the conference room.

'Sorry,' you said, an apologetic smile already on your lips. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'It's okay,' he replied as casually as possible. It was one thing to nearly be caught out by your colleague that you had an illegal narcotic you used to have an addiction for in your hand, but another when that colleague is one you've admired since the day you met. 'I was lost in thought, anyways.'

'Well just as well then. I can only imagine how depthless your brain must go with all that knowledge crammed in there.' You walked down the stairs to the floor of the bullpen and walked to him. You were still in your clothes from the past twenty-four hours, and your light makeup looked like it was lifting off your face like a second skin. Even your unrelenting smile seemed to sag with exhaustion.

Spencer straightened up in his seat, suddenly concerned. 'You okay, (Y/N)? You look-'

'Like trash?' you finished as you pulled up a chair of your own and sat in front of him. 'I have no doubt.'

Spencer looked behind your back into the conference room, his eyebrows furrowing when he spotted stacks of folders and loose paperwork spread across the table. 'That all yours?'

You looked back to the mess of words and paper you'd just escaped and sighed dramatically. 'Oh, yeah. Seems like the longer the case, the more paperwork you have to do. Poor trees.'

'Yeah...' Spencer found it odd how much paperwork you had to get through. Even he didn't have that much to get through. But before he could question you about it, your soft voice filled the damning void that surrounded him.

'How are you feeling, you know, after this case?'

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Don't give me that,' you say, your smile now replaced by a seriousness Spencer only saw on you when you were making an arrest or in really dire situations. You've worked together for almost three years now, he knew all the faces you pulled, all of your likes and dislikes, how you liked your coffee only after you've completed one task for the day to prove you can survive without it but choose not to.

He knows you, so it should not be surprising that you know him just as well.

'The moment we found out the unsub's objective, you've been a little... off.'

'Well, it shouldn't be surprising considering that was me just ten months ago,' he said matter-of-factly, pulling back into his shell, putting up his guard. 'I mean, if Hotch hadn't have found out about it, that could've been me-'

'No it wouldn't have.'

Spencer scoffed, but not in a demeaning manner. He just didn't believe you for a moment because he could see the facts, the statistics, in his head. 'Over 45% percent of addicts relapse at least twice. This is without the intervention or support by health care clinics and families and friends, and this case just proved that. So, yes, it could've been-'

'But it wasn't,' you intervened again, your voice echoing like soft thunder through the empty office. It gave you presence, forcing Spencer to look at you, like really look at you, and face what you were about to say.

'You had help and support from people that care about you, Spence,' you continued, sitting forward in your seat. 'And I don't care about the statistics, you're not one of them. You're your own person and you can determine where you add value in life, not by some... statistically-informed percentage prediction... thing.'

That drew a laugh out him, the quiet but sudden sound surprising him slightly. 'Stastically-informed percentage prediction, huh?'

'Shut up,' you grumbled and playfully punched his shoulder. When you both calmed down, you continued. 'When I realised who we were looking for, for a moment I kind of got scared.'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow 'Scared?'

You nodded. 'The truth is that... when you were kidnapped and... you had to endure all that pain alone... I was terrified. We all were. Even when we found you, I was terrified. Because I knew you would never be the same, and not that it's your problem, but I knew in that moment that I would never forgive myself for not finding you sooner. For not going with you and JJ to the farm.'

Tears welled up in your eyes and Spencer immediately leant forward. To do what, he didn't know, he just needed you to know he was there for you, like you always were for him.

'I'm sorry,' you mutter, blinking the tears away before they could fall. 'Your trauma is not my own. I have no right to express my guilt.'

'There's nothing to feel guilty for,' he said, reaching out slowly with his hands, the ones that slightly shook as he laid them on your own.

To his relief, you smiled. It wasn't full, but it was there. 'You're a horrible liar, Spencer Reid.' That brought some laughter out of you both, lightening the suffocating air of the office.

'But even when we found out about you and the dilaudid,' you continued, pulling yourself together, if only to let Spencer know your true thoughts. 'I wasn't even mad.'

A large lump formed in Spencer's throat, and he had a hard time swallowing it along with the threat of tears that burned behind his amber eyes. 'You... You weren't?'

It was the mixture of surprise and hope that pulled at your heart, that made you feel obligated to keep speaking. 'Why should I have been? I was not the one who was tortured mentally and physically by a split-personality murderer; and who also witnesses the darkest, most ugliest aspects of humanity every single day of his life. It was not my place to judge how you hold onto your own humanity.'

Your eyes until then had never left his, but they flickered downwards then, and Spencer froze at where your gaze landed.

It only lasted a moment before your eyes returned to his, and it startled him the lack of sympathy he finds there, but instead warmth. 'It is still not my place to judge,' you said, twisting your hands so they could clasp his fully. 'All I know is that... you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. So much stronger than me, JJ, Pen, Emily - heck, I'd say you're even stronger than Derek. But not Hotch, Gideon, and Rossi, though. Then again, no one is.'

You both chuckled at that, and all the tension in his body seemed to dissipate at the sound. So light and airy, it was what he imagined heaven sounded like.

'The point is,' you continued, giving his hands a squeeze, 'you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded and conflicted within himself. He felt like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. And a great urge to suddenly engulf you in a hug started itching his limbs, which was weird because he didn't care much physical affection, or affection in general. But before he could decide what he wanted to do, you decided for him.

You gave his hands one last squeeze before letting go and standing up. The absence of your touch left him cold as he followed you as you went back into the conference room to pack up. Surprisingly it didn't take you long until you came back out, your coat and bag in hand.

'Don't stay up too long, now,' you said as you passed him by, your smile so radiant it was almost as if you weren't crying just a few minutes before. 'We've got a long day ahead.'

As soon as the elevator door closed on you, he pulled out the vial of dilaudid and stared it down. It was like it was taunting him, sitting idly, innocently, in his palm, as if it knew he desperately wanted it, needed it.

'...you are stronger than you give yourself credit for... you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

For some reason, though, he suddenly didn't need it. The fire, the urge, the want and reliance for it - he was suddenly weightless with clarity, if only for a moment.

Spencer chucked the vial in the dumpster outside the office when he left. It was hard, but he did it. He knew he wasn't cured, that there was still a long road ahead. But it was a start.

The next day when he came into the office, Derek was the first to comment on his haggard appearance.

'Seriously man,' he said, trailing Spencer out of the break room, 'you look like a ghoul. Did you sleep at all last night.'

'I was here late last night doing paperwork,' he explained, sitting himself and his coffee down at his desk. 'You should go see (y/n), she probably looks a little worse for wear herself from staying late last night, too.'

'Oh, she stayed late too, did she?'

'It's not like that,' Spencer insisted, swatting at Derek pathetically. 'She had a mountain of paperwork to finish of her own.'

'Y/N?' Emily said as she walked by with JJ, identical coffees in their hands. 'She finished her paperwork at about the same time I did.'

'Yeah, we were walking out together before she turned back into the office. Said she had to talk with Hotch,' JJ said.

'I remember that,' Spencer added. 'You guys said goodnight to me on your way out.' Not that he had responded, he suddenly recalled, a pang of guilt punching his gut.

'Who had to talk with me?' The man himself suddenly walked by, stopping at the congregated group upon hearing his name.

'Y/n,' Emily answered. 'Last night.'

'Oh, yes. She, uh, asked if there was anymore paperwork to do.'

'Why would she do that when she was done?' JJ asked.

'I don't know,' Hotch said, making his way towards his office, 'but who am I to turn away someone who wants to do paperwork for free? Now, briefing in ten minutes.'

As the others dispersed back to their desks, Spencer didn't know how to feel about this new information. It didn't help the matter when you finally dragged yourself into the office, dark circles peaking out from under your thin layer of foundation. But as you sat at your desk, eyes drooping as you logged onto your laptop, he knew just what to do.

It took you a second to register the cup of coffee being held in front of your dazed eyes, and another to realise who was holding it.

'Late night?' Spencer asked, a coy smile on his lips.

Despite your exhaustion, you managed to grab the cup without spilling any of the precious caffeine that would help you through the day. 'Yeah,' you decided to play dumb, answering as enthusiastically as possible. 'Paperwork, you know. Never-ending.'

Spencer hummed, contemplating his next words carefully. 'Well, I hope giving up your sleep was worth it, then.'

'I'd like to think it was.'

The way you didn't hesitate to answer struck a chord of truth in him that left him dumbfounded once more. Twice in under twenty-four hours? That had to be a new record for him.

But instead of freezing up, he managed an honest smile as he clanked his coffee cup with your own. 'Well... it is certainly most appreciated.'

~

The next time you dumbfounded him, he almost kissed you.

Ever since you had joined the BAU, you and Spencer had alway had a sweet partnership. But after that night in the office, you had become inseparable. Best friends, to put simply. You stayed late at the office to keep each other company, brought each other coffee and treats, spent free days checking out the new films playing in the cinema.

You had inside jokes, and fought like an old, married couple - a fact the team loved to bring up whenever possible. But you liked it like that. Spencer was your person, and you were his.

And as much as he wowed you everyday, you managed to surprise him on occasions, too.

You were both paired up to interrogate a suspect. You personally didn't believe she was the killer, but Spencer didn't like to base anything from solely his gut. In other words, he was skeptical.

'I didn't kill those women,' your suspect said. 'And even if wanted to kill them, it would be for something more worthwhile than a stupid role.'

'Jealously isn't as far-fetched a reason to kill as you may believe,' Spencer stated to her. 'Particularly in women, the feeling of being threatened or in danger of losing something important to them brings out almost a maternal instinct to protect what they believe to be is theirs.'

'You think all actresses are that low? That shallow?' The young woman was pretty, but her face scrunched up in an ugly manner at the insinuation.

'He doesn't think that at all,' you interjected. 'In fact, he quite likes actresses, don't you buddy?'

Spencer gave you a side eye to which you smiled sickly-sweetly at in return. You were never going to let the Lila fling down any time soon.

You looked back at the young woman, your face returning to empathetic, concerned. She had a wall up, she was wearing a mask. If you wanted answers out of her, you needed to connect with her.

You leaned forward on the table, positioning yourself in front of Spencer so all her focus was on you.

'Anna,' you said softly, like you were speaking to a friend. 'I know you didn't do it. You're different than all those other girls right? You've worked hard to get where you are. Small town girl wanting to make a name for herself in an industry that can be ruthless and heartless as the killer that's still out there. You are classically trained, by-the-book, no shortcuts. I bet you started on the stage of your elementary school, landing the lead role.'

The young woman looked at you with skepticism for a moment, then you saw a crack in her mask as she nodded. 'I was Mary in the Christmas production. But it wasn't until high school when we preformed Shakespeare's The Tempest that I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life.'

Spencer noticed your smile now, how it lifted in a manner that sung of melancholy and fondness.

'"We are such stuff as dreams are made on.",' you said whimsically, and Spencer noted a familiarity that had the words rolling off your tongue with ease. Like it was muscle memory.

'Such a beautiful line, right?' the young woman asked.

'Yes, but, when translated into our modern English, it is quite sad really.' You make eye contact with the young woman and hoped she saw the understanding and slight desperation in your eyes. 'It means that life is an illusion, and a fleeting one at that. I don't necessarily believe in the first part of that, but it is true that life is fleeting. So before you end up the next aspiring actress in our morgue, you've got to tell us everything you know.'

The rest of the interrogation went smoothly. Honestly, it was the easiest one Spencer had ever sat in before. And all the while he had just sat there in awe of you.

'I didn't know you read Shakespeare,' he said randomly as they drove together in a local police SUV to meet with the rest of the team at the new suspect's house.

You scoffed. 'See that's the biggest misconception of Shakespeare. That it can only be read. In fact, it actually shouldn't be just read. It needs to be performed.'

Amusement danced upon Spencer's lips. 'Are you saying you were in a Shakespearean play? Which one? Actually, let me guess. Romeo and Juliet.'

'That's a cliche.'

'Twelfth Night? How about Taming of the Shrew?'

'Why do you want to know so badly?'

'Because I...' It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't quite know why he wanted to know. Only that he knows everything and you were his best friend and he didn't know something about you.

You spared him a sympathetic smile from the driver's seat before returning your eyes to the road. 'If you must know... it was actually The Tempest. It was my high school's production, too. And as much as he irritates me, I grew fascinated with Shakespeare's work after that. It even prompted me to do a unit or two in Shakespearean literature and performance during my uni days.'

You allowed yourself to slip back in time a little to those days, that melancholy and fondness finding its way back into your smile, Spencer noticed.

'Outside of Shakespeare though, I'll admit... I was a theatre kid.'

'No way!' Spencer exclaimed. 'You?'

'Why is it so unbelievable that I used to dress up and spout lines that no one really understood?' you asked, but you weren't offended. Simply amused that you seemed to have stunned the (until now) un-stunnable Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Because... it's just so left of field from anyone else in the team.'

'And is that a bad thing?'

'...not at all,' he said after a moment, and then proceeded to drop the matter entirely. Spencer Reid never forgets anything, he couldn't forget, not with his eidetic memory. But he made extra special care to file that little fact about you away for now.

A few days after returning home from wrapping that case up, you came into work to find your coffee already made on your desk, and beside it was an envelope. Curious, you swiftly opened the envelope and gasped with pure surprise at what you found.

'I thought you might like them,' Spencer said as he approached you, his own coffee in hand. 'The ticket vendor said they were the best seats in the house.'

'Oh my God, Spencer!' You couldn't help yourself, you leapt onto the gangly man like a frog and held him tighter than you'd ever hugged someone before, avoiding spilling Spencer's coffee. You were so excited you even smacked a fat, grateful kiss on his unsuspecting cheek before letting him go. 'Tickets to ASC's production of The Tempest?! How did you even get these, I was told they were all gone.'

'Believe it or not, I have connections everywhere,' Spencer answered a bit too vaguely but you didn't care. 'Even in areas that aren't of my particular expertise. I figured you and a friend could go enjoy it before it finishes up.'

'You mean you're not coming?'

Spencer tried not to read into it too much, but he swore he heard a little hiccup in your question, like you were upset. 'W-Well, I, I, uh, didn't want to assume anything. I mean, y-you might want to take JJ, or Emily-

'Spencer.' It was ridiculous how easy he listened when you said his name, how he dropped everything to listen to what you had to say whenever you did. And his heart faltered when he made eye contact with you and saw joy and hope lighting up your eyes. 'Would you like to come to the show with me?'

And it wasn't any wonder, then, that he replied without hesitation, 'Y-Yeah! All right, s-sure. Would love to.'

'Amazing!' Spencer once again had to juggle his coffee and you as you squeezed all the air out of him in another bone-crushing hug. 'Spencer Reid, you have just made my day.'

It was a week later and the night of the performance. You drove yourself and Spencer two and a half hours straight from Quantico down to Staunton to the American Shakespeare Centre, reciting and recalling your favourite Shakespearean moments the whole trip.

Spencer made the extreme effort to look presentable, pulling out a nice suit set, even replacing his usual casual sneakers with some shiny boots. His hair was slicked back out of his face, with only the slightest stubble on his chin and upper lip.

When you picked him up, you said he looked handsome. He never cared much for his appearance, but that comment warmed his heart slightly, made him sit more upright in his seat.

Once you pulled up and got out of the car, he finally saw you in all your glory. A navy blue dress clung to your frame beautifully; kitten heels cradled your feet as you walked up the stairs to the theatre's entrance; your jewellery brought out the (e/c) in your eyes, even further accentuated by your simple makeup and hair.

Spencer has met Nobel price winners, attorney generals, even spoken with the most psychotic people humanity has to offer. And yet there you stood - ethereal, angelic, striking him silent with just your presence.

'You coming, Boy Wonder?'

You'd reached the top the stairs without him moving a muscle. Embarrassed, he tried to cover it up with a cough as he scrambled to catch up with you. 'Boy Wonder? Where did that come from?'

You shrugged playfully as you hooked your arm through his. 'Just seemed appropriate.'

'I'm twenty-seven, (y/n). I'm hardly a boy.'

'Oh, so would you prefer I call you Batman?'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'I didn't know you liked DC comics.'

'There's a lot you still don't know about me, Spencer Reid,' you answered, handing over your tickets to the ticket vendor at the door. 'Like how I've always preferred Robin over Batman, anyway.'

You quickly found your seats, and Spencer tried not to acknowledge how tight-knit the seats were pressed together. His thigh pressed lightly against your own, and he couldn't tell if he hated or liked the feeling that suddenly sprouted in his gut.

It distracted him so much that instead of watching the performance, he looked at you. How you reacted to each sonnet, to the entrance of new characters, to the costuming and the music and emotion that filled the room with every word spoken. He watched it all, your joy, your love. Your heart was on your face, and it struck something new and unexplored inside him.

You cried at one point, and physical touch wasn't his forte, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave them a reassuring squeeze that he was there. You'd turned to him briefly and nodded, showing that you understood and that you were grateful.

You didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the show.

'Wow,' you breathed out as you exited the theatre, the performance finally done. 'That was...'

'Yeah. I feel the same,' Spencer finished, his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked down the stairs towards the carpark. His hand still burned from your touch, and that unsure feeling in his gut still remained.

'It was just so... magical.'

'I would say impressive, but magical works too, I guess.'

'Says the guy who still goes trick-or-treating on Halloween and believes in ghosts. Don't tell me you don't believe in the supernatural now.'

'I'm not saying I don't believe. I'm just saying that it's impressive that they were able to make fantastical magic seem slightly realistic.'

You playfully shove him, causing you both to fall into laughter. The two different melodies mixing together made Spencer feel lighter than he'd felt in a while. This was different to when you usually hung out. This time, there was no case, no team, nothing but yourselves to worry about.

'It doesn't matter, anyways,' you said, stopping on the steps suddenly. Spencer went down one more before stopping too. You smiled gratefully at him. It was a cool, autumn night, cool enough that your breath danced like ghosts in front of you as you spoke. 'Thank you, Spence. This was a wonderful night. You didn't have to do this.'

'I know,' he said, and it startled him how quiet and soft his voice was. 'I just... I just wanted you to enjoy the stuff you love. You deserve to enjoy the stuff you love.'

His acute eyes fell to your shoulders and noticed the slight shake in them. 'Here.' He wasted no time pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling it tight to capture the warmth.

You gratefully held onto the jacket, the warmth it captured seeping into your eyes. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer,' you said, your words dancing in between you two.

He was only the step down now, making you two eye level with one another. He was so close he could see himself in your eyes. He wondered if you could see yourself in his.

'Am I?' he asked, his breath mixing with yours.

'Yeah...'

He felt your warmth, and he suddenly decided that he liked the feeling in his gut. The one that had been driving him crazy all night. The one that had an iron grip on his mind, his heart. The one that pulled him closer to you, to your lips.

His eyes were almost closed and his lips almost on yours. You didn't back away - you didn't want to back away you realised. No matter how hard your heart pounded in your chest. No matter if he was your best friend.

So you leaned in too, and you could just feel the stars and planets align as you tasted his breath-

The front of your heel slipped on the edge of the step, sending you flying forwards into Spencer's chest. His reflexes had improved immensely since joining the BAU, and so he managed to grab hold of you and hold himself up before your momentum could send you both tumbling down the remaining stairs.

You both breathed in heavy gulps of air, steadying both your hearts from what could've happened.

'Nice catch,' you said after a moment, loosening your grip on Spencer only a little.

'Thanks.' He didn't know where to look. You, the ground, his surroundings. It all just felt muddled, as if his whole world had been tilted on its axis.

In a sense, it had.

But he felt your gaze, and he couldn't deny your eyes so he looked at you also. You eyes were blown wide, and the slight catch in your breath had him second guessing himself. Maybe he'd read you wrong after all. He'd never been wrong before, but there was always a first time for everything, he figured.

'(Y/n), look, I-'

Before he could attempt to salvage himself, the irritating ring of his phone went off, breaking the glass dome of solitude you'd' forged together with nothing but words and air.

This forced you apart, awkwardly so, as Spencer readjusted you on his step before letting you go completely and fishing his phone out of his pant pocket. He checked the ID caller: Hotch.

He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. 'Hotch, what's up?'

'New case,' the unit chief answered without pleasantries. 'I know we're all meant to be off for the weekend but this one is important.'

'Where is it and we'll be there.'

'You're with (Y/n), right? In Staunton?'

'Yeah, why?'

'Head to the local police. We'll meet you there. That's where the case is.'

'Okay. Gotcha.'

Hotch ended the call and then it was just him and you once more. Although instead of the air feeling freeing and warming, Spencer couldn't seem to get enough in his lungs. It was like he was suffocating, having to face you again.

So he slipped into work mode, keeping Hotch's urgency and the new case in the forefront of his mind. 'New case. Here in Staunton. Hotch wants us to head down to the police and meet them there.'

'Right.' You seemed to think the same as him - it's probably why you were best friends to begin with - as the ethereal light in your eyes dimmed with the severity of the new situation. Without another word, you both bee-lined for the car, jumped in, and made your way to the local police station.

But for the rest of the case, Spencer couldn't help but think about that moment with you on the steps. He'd kissed before, of course, even dabbled in flirting despite how little he knew about the craft. He'd never imagined he'd attempt it all on you, however. Not even in his wildest dreams.

~

He didn't hear your heart-stopping compliment again until it was almost too late.

After the Staunton case, you and Spencer had been... odd. Well, mainly Spencer, as he spoke as little as possible to you during cases, and always offered to go with anyone else but you on certain tasks. He even stopped coming over to yours for movie night each Saturday, claiming each time to be busy or unwell. It was Spencer's only way of ensuring nothing like that night ever happened again.

He convinced himself the moment was fleeting, just a mixture of chemicals in his brain combined with the adrenaline of being with a beautiful women he very much admired that made him read the signs wrong. You were friends, that was all you were, and all he would ever allow you to be.

This went on for three months.

And you were miserable.

Emily, JJ and Penelope recognised the change in your demeanour at work first, and when they found out the reason behind it, they slapped Spencer upside the head on their way out of the office one Friday afternoon and took you with them, promising a wonderful night out on the town.

That night, to Spencer's eventual annoyance, you'd met someone. A charming young firefighter named Riley who lived in Washington DC and was just in town to see family.

That night, you hooked up. And the next morning, he asked you on a date. That date led to another, then more. You were on your way to another one tonight when you got a phone call from JJ saying they found the latest unsub's house and were planning a raid on it.

Spencer knew you were on a date when he also got the phone call to come along. Despite his distance (by his own choice, he always had to remind himself), he kept tabs on you, checked in on you via others. And while the girls of the team were awfully mad at him, they always answered him when he asked how you were doing.

'You know, for a genius, you really are quite stupid,' JJ told him when he asked about you.

He quirked his eyebrow, genuinely confused. 'I'm sorry?'

'She's heartbroken,' Penelope added. 'Her best friend just gives her the silent treatment out of nowhere after what sounded like a magical night at the theatre. Who wouldn't be upset by that, Reid?'

'I just,' he paused, rallying his thoughts into words that couldn't quite describe how he felt. 'It's complicated.'

'Love shouldn't be complicated, Reid,' Emily interjected, a soft but sad smile gracing her painted lips.

Spencer swallowed thickly at that. 'W-What do you mean?'

Derek finished making his coffee and took a sip of it before answering. 'We all see it, Reid. You don't have to deny anymore how you feel.'

'I'm not denying anything, Morgan.'

'Maybe not to us,' Derek continued. 'But you are definitely denying it to yourself. All I can say is don't wait until it's too late. She's already slipping away.'

That's when Spencer found out about your dates with Riley, and an ugly, selfish, hurt part of him wanted to scream with anger. Mainly at himself, but the damage was done and he had to get over you.

But when you showed up to the unsub's home, your FBI bullet-proof vest on and mascara slightly smeared under your eyes, he was beyond confused. And concerned.

'You're here,' he stated matter-of-factly.

'You sound surprised,' you answered stiffly, loading your gun without even glancing at him.

'To be honest, yeah. JJ and the rest all said you were out tonight. I figured you-'

'What? That I would ignore the call because I had something personal planned?' You finally looked up at him, and man did your cold stare pierce him like an arrow. 'This is my job, Spence. I knew, same as you and everyone else, that I would have to make some sacrifices to do it. So please, don't think so little of me just because I attempted to have a life outside of it.'

He grew more concerned at your choice of words. 'Attempted?' he asked, but then he looked closely at your smeared mascara, at the redness circling your eyes. Like you'd been crying-

'Don't worry about it,' you muttered, brushing past him to meet up with the team. 'You haven't for about four months now.'

Spencer tried to ignore the sting your words brought with them as he followed you to the rest of the team, forcing himself to put the case in front of you. But he'd done that for the past four months as you had so brightly pointed out, and look where it had landed him.

'Now remember,' Hotch started, bringing the team and some other officers in to brief, 'this unsub may use this place as his base to build his bombs, but don't discredit the idea that he wouldn't blow it up to save himself. Tread carefully but be vigilant, he is in the house somewhere. Now move.'

Spencer followed you into the house through the front door, gun and flashlight at the ready. All that could be heard were the soft but swift patter of footsteps as the FBI and local police ran in. The lights were on, but no unsub.

You were silently directed by Hotch to investigate the back end of the house, to which Spencer and Derek followed. You focussed on maintaining your breathing as you tried not to think about your date, Spencer, your heart thrashing in your ribcage. Only the unsub mattered.

The three of you broke into the last room of the house, the laundry. Upon entry, you spotted him, the unsub, running out the back door into the backyard.

'Hey!' you called out, immediately breaking into a sprint after him. You broke out of the laundry onto a cemented path towards a clothes line, chasing after him towards the fence line. But as you stepped off the path and onto the grass, something gave way beneath your feet, followed by a resounding click that had your freezing with fear.

'(L/n), keep going!' Derek shouted from somewhere behind you.

'Hold up!' you cried, throwing an arm back behind you. 'I think the yard is full of bombs.'

'Well, let's go around the front and get him in the back streets, come on!'

'I can't,' you replied back, slightly breathless from running, but also from the fear constricting now your airways.

'Why?' You didn't have to see him to know it was Spencer, concern dripping from just one word.

'Because I'm standing on one.'

Spencer knew it was physically impossible, but he was sure his stomach just dropped out of him and onto the bomb-littered grass around them. This was bad. Like very very bad.

'Shit,' Derek breathed out before bringing his wrist up to his mouth. 'Hotch, the unsub got away over the back fence, send some men to intercept him two blocks north from here.'

'Got it,' Hotch answered efficiently.

'And send the bomb squad out here. Yard is like a mine field and (L/n) is standing on one.'

After that, it didn't take long for the rest of the team to run outside, making extra careful to stand only on the pavements as they got as close to you as they could. Spencer stood the closest, standing directly in front of you as the bomb squad swept the yard for the rest of them.

'I've got some good news and some bad news,' one member of the bomb squad said as she came up to the team. 'Good news is it's the only bomb in the yard.'

'And I just managed to find it. Super,' you muttered, your tone shaky although the intention was to lighten the mood.

'Bad news is it's a pressure-triggered bomb, meaning that if you move even a fraction it'll go off. Also, by stepping on it, you've set of a timer until it explodes. The only way to disarm it seems to be a code of some kind.'

'How long do we have?' Spencer asked, not bothering to mask his desperation. This couldn't be happening. Of all the people, it had to be you.

'Six hours now,' she said grimly. 'My team and I will do everything we can to dismantle it and shut it off manually, but it's built quite strong so it'll be tough to crack open without setting it off. Your best bet will be to get an answer from your bomber.'

'Uniforms just called in,' Rossi said. 'They're bringing him in now.'

'Good,' Hotch said with a ferocity that would send most people running for the hills. 'He's gonna give us that code one way or another.' He turned to you, determination blazing in his eyes. 'Hang tight, (Y/n). We're gonna get you off that thing.'

'I'll hold you to that,' you joked, and you were grateful to receive a soft smile in return from Hotch and the rest of the team. Except for Spencer, he couldn't find it in himself to smile. He could barely think no thanks to your dangerous position.

'I'll stay with (Y/n),' Spencer said, his voice strained compared to his usual calmness.

'Reid,' Derek started, 'you're our best bet to crack open this guy. If we find something-'

'Then I'll have my phone ready to pick up. I'm not leaving her.'

It surprised you the strength you heard hidden underneath his fear. It was there in his eyes too, blazing like Hotch's, except with more warmth, more determination.

Derek looked to Hotch, and Hotch just nodded. 'Okay fine, but you better pick up on the first ring.'

'Promise.'

'I'll stay to help with the bomb squad,' Emily said while also looking at you.

'No,' you said as Hotch, Derek and JJ left. 'You all should go. In case he somehow remotely sets it off himself.'

'We're not leaving,' Reid said firmly, making eye contact with you. 'Not until you're off that bomb, you hear me?'

You wanted to argue, trying to be selfless and strong. But the truth was you were terrified, and to hear Spencer's strength where you lacked helped you push your pride aside and nod in agreement.

Time had flown by and it was now the last ten minutes. Spencer had received phone call after phone call but nothing had been helpful. They'd tried two potential codes already but they didn't work. The bomb squad quickly realised that they only had three chances to get the code right and so they were down to the last chance.

'You guys should really leave,' you said amidst your chattering teeth. It was now just after midnight and your thin button up and the bulletproof vest were not cutting it anymore. Spencer wished he could give you a blanket, a jacket, his own shirt for God's sake if it would keep you warm slightly.

'That's not going to happen,' he answered without hesitation.

You yawned, eyes threatening to droop close. Your legs had gone numb long ago. You were unsure how you were holding yourself up. It certainly wasn't by adrenaline. Perhaps you were frozen in place.

'I mean it, Spence,' you said, bracing yourself as another shiver threatened to spasm your entire body. 'It's the last ten minutes. You should be clear in case it goes off.'

'I'm not going to do that.'

'Damnit, Spencer. Of all the times to be stubborn, you choose now?'

'I'm not being stubborn,' Spencer argued. Were you purposefully trying to tick him off now? 'I'm trying to save your life!'

'You're right, you're not being stubborn. You're being plain stupid,' you retorted. You weren't sure why you were suddenly so angry, you just didn't like him playing the hero when he didn't have to.

'Yes! I am stupid, I admit that. I'll announce that to the entire neighbourhood right now if you want me to! Because if it weren't for me being an idiot, you wouldn't have had those dates, you wouldn't have had a date tonight, and maybe you wouldn't be stuck standing on a bomb right now!'

You stared incredulously at Spencer. He blamed himself for your situation? For Riley?

Despite the bustling of people around them, everything grew silent as youO stared at one another, Spencer's chest heaving as he sucked in air hard.

'Spence,' you said softly, your anger suddenly dissipating. 'I don't blame you for any of this. I would've ended up on this bomb one way or another. Or even worse, it could've been you standing on it. And as for Riley...' You thought the tears would come up again like before, but your eyes remained dry, and your heart didn't pull harshly.

Not for Riley, anyways.

'Did something happen between you two?' Spencer tentatively asked. His tone bordered on concerned and hopeful, demonstrating his torn mindset to whatever you were about to say.

You nodded. 'I told him I had to go to work, which wasn't unusual, but he just flipped. Said he was sick of me choosing you guys over him and that he was finished.'

He hated himself for feeling the slightest bit happy at the news, but his best friend instincts kicked in, and all he wanted to do was reach out and hold you. 'I'm sorry. You could've said no. We would've understood-'

'Spencer, I will always choose you guys over anyone,' you interjected, and the complete seriousness on your face reflected your sincerity brighter than the full moon above. 'I will always choose you, Spence.'

It was then Spencer saw it: the same feeling he'd had swirling in his stomach for months reflected in your eyes. It scared him, but what scared him more was that it would all be gone soon if he didn't do anything about it.

He would be too late, just like Derek said.

The bomb squad lady and Emily walked up to them both, and Spencer did not like the grim expressions on their faces.

'I'm sorry,' the bomb squad lady said. 'It's the last five minutes. There's nothing else we can do but clear out of the blast zone.'

'What about the code?' Spencer pressed, but Emily shook her head.

'Reid, they've gotten nothing out of him. We've got to go.'

'But we can't just leave her here-'

'Trust me, Spencer, I don't want to either!' Emily cried, tears pricking at her eyes at the thought of you dying. 'But we can't do anything for her here. I've got the remote to input the code if they get another one, but until then, we've got to clear from the blast zone.'

'No.' Spencer shook his head vigourously. He couldn't accept this. He wouldn't accept this.

'Spencer,' you tried gently. 'It's okay. I can do the rest alone. I want you to be safe.'

'Well, too bad, because I'm staying.'

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears rushed down your cheeks. 'Damnit, Spencer. Please, just go. Don't make this harder than it already is.'

Spencer took a daring step towards you, the tops of his shoes dangling just over the edge of the pavement. 'I won't abandon you. Not again.'

You were most likely a blubbering mess, your heart hurting so much at the thought that he would get caught up in your mess. 'God, why don't you just leave-'

'Because I love you, (Y/n)!'

The four of you stood dumbfounded as his proclamation echoed through the yard, the house, the street back out the front. Hell, Spencer hoped the whole world heard what he said, because he felt free for the first time in months, weightless, powerful.

And it was all because of you.

'I love you,' he repeated again, softer this time. As the reality of the situation came crashing down on him, tears of his own sprouted in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He'd finally built up the courage to tell you, and you were minutes away from being blown up.

Through your tears, you find it in yourself to chuckle a little. It's watery and gross-sounding, but Spencer likes it none the less because it's yours, and you haven't lost complete hope. 'Talk about great timing, you big idiot.' And then there it is, that bright smile he saw day one in the office. You wore it with such pride, such strength it pulled at Spencer's heart strings painfully. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer Reid.'

'One minute,' the bomb squad lady said, her tone frantic now. 'We've got to move! Now!'

'Reid, come on!' Emily cried, backing up with the bomb squad.

'I won't abandon her,' he replied, never taking his eyes off you.

'Reid please!'

Before he could reply, though, his phone buzzed, and he immediately answered the call. 'Please tell me you go it.'

'HOME! The code word is HOME!'

'Punch in HOME!' Reid called out to Emily, keeping Derek on the line as he stared at you. If you were to die, he was gonna make damn sure the last thing you saw wasn't an unfamiliar face.

'Are you sure?'

'We're out of time! Do it!'

'Spence...' you muttered. But you never finished your sentence, as your breath got caught while watching Emily punch in the code into the device. You closed your eyes. Soon you would be in eternal darkness. You would not fear it, but embrace it.

But when nothing happened, you dared to sneak a peek at what was going on. You saw Spencer first, who looked at Emily, who looked at the device in her hands. The deathly silence was finally broken at the sound of a green light on the device switching on. You then heard a hundred tiny clicks somewhere underfoot and felt yourself being pushed up back onto level ground.

Spencer finally looked back to you, eyes blown wide with hope he dared not realise. That same hope fuelled your frozen, tired legs, to take the tiniest of steps forward, and when nothing happened, you took your other foot off the bomb and collapsed forward into Spencer's arms.

His heart pounded faster than the jet that flew them all over the country every week as he cradled you simultaneously gently and tightly. You sobbed into his chest, your arms circling around his back and pulling him as tight as possible.

Oh, how he had missed your touch, your affection, your love, you.

'It's okay, you're okay,' he soothed, patting your hair down with one hand while he cradled you with the other. 'I'm here. We're all here.' He realised suddenly he'd dropped his phone, and so with one hand, he reached down and picked it up, bringing it to his ear. 'She's off.'

He barely heard the cheers of excitement and relief on Derek's end before he was hanging up and helping you to your feet. After that, it was a whirlwind of the bomb squad excavating the bomb, paramedics arriving, and CSU investigating the house.

After giving his statement of events to the local police and finishing speaking to other officials, he found you wrapped in a trauma blanket in the open back of an ambulance.

'How are you feeling?' he said as he approached you.

You broke free of your own world to look at Spencer, and a soft smile managed its way onto your lips. 'Well, I can feel my legs again so that's a start. And you?'

'All the better now that you're not standing on a bomb.'

You chuckled, though a red tinge dusted your cheeks out of embarrassment. 'I must admit, it's true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes the moment before you die.'

'Really? What did you see?' Spencer had read articles about this kind of stuff before, but had never spoken with a person who'd experience it themselves.

You didn't answer straight away, instead standing up to face him fully. Your legs felt like jelly a little but you stood strong. 'I saw you,' you replied easily, as if breathing air. 'Only you.'

Spencer couldn't hold it back, his fear, his relief. It all came bubbling out in an ugly sob as he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, pressing his face into your hair, using your scent to calm himself. He felt you sobbing too, how your body shook with your own anxieties.

'I missed you,' you said, your words muffled into his chest.

'I know, I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I missed you, too.' He pulled you back slightly so that he could see your face. He wiped at your tears and forced his best smile just for you. 'But I'm back now. And I'm not going anywhere. That is... if you want me around.'

You heard his silent question, and it made you smile how confident and shy he could be simultaneously.

'Spencer Reid,' you murmured, like what you were about to say next was your biggest secret, 'of course I want you around. I love you.'

He chuckled with relief, tears still pricking at his eyes. But your words sealed your fate, as he used his small amount of confidence to grab the back of your neck gently and pull your lips to his.

You were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, and dare he compare you the most addictive drug he could ever hope to get high on. He couldn't get enough of you, and it was such a relief to finally let it out how much he needed you to breathe.

You were equally breathless, simultaneously feeling all consumed by Spencer's love without also having enough of it. Your fingers danced in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, threading yourself into him as much as possible. The truth was, the past four months were torturous.

'I'm not going anywhere.'

As you both finally broke apart, you pressed your foreheads together, nervous giggles of teenagers bubbling up in you both. This was fresh and new, but the love you had for one another had been there all along. No one was going anywhere.

'Finally!'

You and Spencer looked up to see the rest of the team watching from afar, with Emily and JJ smiling giddily, Derek and Rossi trying to suppress laughter, and Hotch having the simplest of grins on his lips.

'Oh, babygirl is going to have a field day when she hears about this,' Derek said, walking up to clap Spencer on the back and give him a hug. 'Well done, man.'

'It's about time,' Rossi said as the rest of the team joined you both. 'I thought I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.'

'Thank God you didn't,' Emily said, both her and JJ giving you a hug. 'As much as this has been traumatic for all of us, I'm so glad it brought you back together.'

'Say that to my poor legs,' you whined, but you hugged them just as tight. Truthfully, you felt the same. And as Reid held you in his arms that night, having refused to let you out of his sight after your brush with death, you couldn't be more grateful for it, too.

~

Your wedding was the next major point in his life that your words had impact.

The past five years leading up to your engagement had been some of the best and challenging in your life. There'd been many more close calls on both your lives since then - kidnappings, hostage situations, deadly viruses, the works. Even some romantic challenges that came in the form of other men and women.

But your bond ran deeper than superficial, petty spiffs. You always found your way back to one another, no matter how dark the road got. It was even on such a dark case that saw both you and Spencer on death row that he asked you. You'd both been captured and locked in a shipping container filled with no gaps for air and no way out. Before that, you'd copped a beating from your capture, forcing Spencer to watch all the while. Truthfully, it hadn't looked good, and that's why Spencer did it.

'What?' you asked deliriously, barely able to see straight no thanks to the lack of oxygen.

'I was planning on asking you... after this case,' Spencer admitted, his face mere centimetres from yours as he held you in a tight hug. He was breathless, running out of air and time it seemed. He had to do it now. 'Had it all planned out... We would go to that place on the hill we go to... a picnic all set out... and just as the sun would set, I'd ask you... and give you this.'

You would've gasped if you'd had enough air to do so, in utter shock to see Spencer pull out a simple gold band with a diamond embedded in it from in his pant pocket.

'I've had this for months... waiting for the... right time,' he managed to get out. 'It's my mothers. When I told her I wanted to marry you... she didn't even hesitate to give it to me.'

You were both weak, but he softly picked your left hand up and looked you dead in the eye. 'This might be it for us, but it also might not. Either way, I want to be yours for whatever time we have left. So, (Y/n) (L/n)... will you marry me?'

The tears that trekked down your face actually cleared your vision enough to see Spencer's smile clearly as you answered, 'Yes. I will marry you.'

Either some higher being was looking out for you that day, or your team was just really good at their job (Spencer never doubted them for a moment), but the team found you both in time, both unconscious and barely breathing, but hand in hand, with yours suddenly bejewelled.

Since then it had been a flurry of work and wedding arrangements and stress over the next seven months. Many speculated you were pregnant and that's why you and Spencer rushed the wedding. The truth was you just didn't want to wait any longer than you had to, not being in your line of work. Any day could be your last, so why waste it.

Spencer messed with the tie of his navy blue suit for the hundredth time as he stood waiting under the arch of flowers in the backyard of Rossi's mansion for you. He wasn't nervous, just... ansty, like he had ants in his pants and wanted to get out of them as soon as possible. But he couldn't deny he was just as excited for this day as you were. All of your friends and family dressed up, no case, no killer, nothing but what dessert they were going to have at the reception to worry about.

'Hey pretty boy,' Derek said, coming up behind him and clapping a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. 'Stop messing with it. You look fine.'

'I know, I just...' Spencer couldn't put into words what he was feeling, not as he stared at his good friend - his best man. Even though Derek had left the BAU, Spencer and him still spoke regularly, and he was more than happy to be there for his best bud at arguably the most important day of his life.

Derek smiled knowingly, straightening Spencer's tie because that's what the best man did for the groom. 'She loves you, Spencer. You've got nothing to worry about.'

'I'm not worried. I just...' He felt the tears already coming on and he hadn't even seen you yet. You were probably even more gorgeous than you already were. God he couldn't wait to marry you.

'I get it, man,' Derek said, and then the piano started playing a soft, whimsical tune that was so you and he stepped back into place. 'Show time, pretty boy.'

Spencer straightened himself up, told himself to hold the tears back. This was not a sad day, but a joyous one. But his breath was stolen the moment the doors of Rossi's mansion opened, after Emily, JJ and Penelope walked through, and you walked out into the backyard on your father's arm.

Your gown was simple, accentuating your body like the goddess you were. Your (h/c) locks were styled to perfection, hidden barely by the thin veil that fell like morning mist over your face. You held your favourite flowers in your hands, the glint of your engagement ring shining as bright as the sun that shone upon the whole ceremony.

By the time you reached him, Spencer was about ready to rip your veil off, kiss the living daylights out of you and runaway. But he resisted, instead waiting patiently for your dad to flip your veil up, and for you to hand over your bouquet to JJ, your maid of honour. When you finally turned to face him, he could've cried. You were so beautiful. And we was marrying you today.

You reached out to him, and he was more than glad to clasp your hands at last.

'Hi,' you whispered, a nervous but excited smile twitching your lips.

'Hi,' he whispered back, the threat of tears burning the back of his eyes again. 'You are gorgeous.'

'Thanks. You look handsome.'

'It's a wonder what a whole eight hours sleep and showering more than once a week can do.'

He was so glad to hear your laugh. It calmed his nerves, and apparently yours calmed too, as your hands no longer shook in his.

'All right, everyone,' Rossi started, stepping up to minister the ceremony. 'Let's get this started.'

The boring, ceremonious stuff went by quickly and soon you were reciting your vows. You'd both wanted to write your own vows for each other - agreeing that the usual script was not enough to express your love for one another, and what you would do to protect that love.

Reid went first.

'(Y/n),' he began, staring you straight in your eyes. He'd written his speech over and over again, but once he found the right words, it only took him a matter of seconds to memorise them. Forever. 'I've always been told I was different. Gifted, special. Being different helped me get this job, this family-' he turned to his friends, who watched them with bright smiles and teary eyes. 'But it also got me in trouble, held me back from experiencing... normal things like friendship, even love. So much so, that I started to believe... I was unworthy of love.'

You squeezed his hands, hearing the stutter in his words, the built up emotion that threatened to consume him. He gratefully squeezed back, grateful to know he was not alone, that he would never be alone from this day forth.

'But from the day I met you, you've shown me that I can be myself and be worthy of love. Theoretically, we shouldn't work. Despite popular opinion, studies have shown that people from different backgrounds, with different interests and completely different personality traits are less likely to feel attracted to one another than people with similar backgrounds, interests and personalities.'

'Come on, Reid. You really want people to sleep through your wedding?' Derek asked, prompting you and the rest of the guests to burst into laughter.

'I have a point,' he countered, and waited for the laughter to die down before resuming his vows. 'And while I usually rely on statistics and facts to make informed decisions about my life, from the day that I met you, you turned my entire world upside, inside out... and I didn't care. Because despite knowing almost everything there is to know about, well, everything, you are the one thing that has and always will make sense to me.'

He saw you trying to hold back tears, so he let go of one of your hands to caress your cheek where some tears rolled down. He swiped them away gently with his thumb without ruining your makeup, the most handsome, beautiful smile you'd ever seen on his lips.

'I love you, (Y/n) (L/n). I have loved you since we first met, at every case, at every movie night, every time you made me coffee. I love how you find the light amidst the darkness, how you give yourself completely to everyone you meet. I love the crinkle in your forehead every time you get mad at me. I love all of you, and I don't have to promise you that I will stay by your side through it all for the rest of our lives. You have had me since day one, and that will never change, even in death. But before that final day comes, I look forward to making the most of what time we have left loving you.'

The guests clapped so loudly that he almost didn't hear your soft sobs. But he did, and he pulled you into a quick hug before you pulled yourself away.

'Oh my goodness, I just want to kiss you,' you admitted quietly to him, bringing laughter out of him. But you quickly pulled your self away, using your free hand to grab an A4-sized piece of paper from JJ and return to face Spencer.

'Unfortunately, I don't have an eidetic memory so I will be using some assistance for this next bit,' you joked, stopping your flow of tears briefly as everyone chuckled, appreciative for the break in overwhelming emotions. Spencer breathed in deeply, steadying his heartbeat as much as possible. His part was done, but he knew this next part would be the hardest to retain composure.

'Spencer,' you began, one hand shakily holding your vows, while the other gripped onto Spencer like your life depended on it. In a sense, after today, it would. 'From the moment I first met you, I knew you were special. That you would leave a mark on my life in one form or another. Some sad part of me sometimes thought it would be when you inevitably shot yourself because you couldn't pass your marksman test after three goes-' Cue Spencer looking to Hotch apologetically while the rest of the guests laughed. '-or because, in our line of work, any day could be our last, and I wouldn't rule out any psychopaths intervening with that. However, despite it all, you're still here, and I couldn't be more thankful that you are. You amaze me everyday, Spencer - with your knowledge of the world, your intellectual insight, how you are almost incapable of growing any substantial amount of facial hair.'

You were glad people were laughing now, because what you were about to say next was going to take all your composure not to fall apart.

'But it is your heart and your ability to connect with people that has captured me completely. Our story has been... unconventional, to put it plainly. We were colleagues first, then friends, then you became my best friend, and I thought I couldn't be happier than that. But maybe it has something to do with some chemicals in the brain that are stimulated when you hang around someone you admire and adore long enough - you know, science stuff - or fate. I don't necessarily believe in either, but I do believe in us, Spencer. I believe that we are two souls choosing to become one for the rest of our lives; I believe you are my person, and the one I choose to face each and everyday with; I believe we haven't overcome all that we have for nothing; and I am not the least bit surprised it took nearly getting blown up to admit how I truly feel about you.'

Spencer couldn't care that what you said about brain chemicals was technically incorrect, it was so you, and there was not a dry eye in the backyard as you looked up at him finally, sheet long forgotten, and (e/c) eyes shining bright with tears and love.

'I love you, Spencer Reid,' you said breathlessly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. 'You have experienced the worst of humanity over and over again, and yet here you stand with me, smiling, happy, choosing to believe in happy endings. You are a wonder - my wonder - and I can't wait to spend everyday from now loving you, and being wowed by you. From now... until I cannot breathe, and even then beyond.'

You gave the paper back to JJ, then returned your full attention to Spencer. It was like it was only you two, the clapping from your guests dulled as well as Rossi's final words. But Spencer didn't miss a beat when he heard him say, 'By the power vested in me and my online-approved minister credentials, I pronounce you husband and wife. Go on kids, you've earned it.'

Spencer swooped you into the sweetest, loving kiss he could muster, gently cradling your neck and cheeks as your lips met in a soft collision. It wasn't lustful (that would certainly come later), but it was consuming, like two forces being pulled together by a magnet. You were separate entities choosing to become one, and it made you smile through your kiss and for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening.

You both partied with your family and friends, but you always managed to find your way back to one another despite the chaos. He now cradled you gently as you swayed together on the dance floor, fatigue settling in. You held each other up as you did, content to just be with each other in the final moments of your special day. Emily, your new section chief, had ordered you both take two weeks off to celebrate your honey moon. Because God knew when the next time you'd be able to relax would be when you both came back to work.

You shifted in his arms, manoeuvring yourself to look up at him, a delirious, tired and happy smile adorning your pretty lips. 'I love you, Spencer Reid.'

He leaned in for a brief but loving kiss before saying, 'I love you, (Y/n) Reid.'

Something about how his last named paired with your first name sounded that warmed him inside. The same feeling lit up in your eyes, but maybe that was just the happy tears that formed there, too.

'We're the Reids now,' you whispered in disbelief, probably due to the amount of alcohol you had consumed throughout the day. 'You're my husband!'

'Yes I am,' he murmured, pulling you back to his chest to lay your head. 'Forever and always.'

~

The last time he heard you say those special words was the day you said goodbye.

It wasn't until you fell pregnant with your first child that you found a proper house to live in. You'd been content with the studio apartment you'd found and moved into one year into your relationship, but when you fell pregnant, Spencer knew you would need a bigger space. One that you could call your own and make a home out of.

Your forever home.

Surprisingly, it hadn't taken long to find something: a nice rustic, two-storey house on the outskirts of DC. It was in a nice neighbourhood , far enough out of the city to be quiet, but close enough you could both get to work quick enough in case of an emergency. The moment you'd laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it, and Spencer knew without question this would be where you brought your family up.

He traipsed through the house with two cups of tea. Coffee had started to disagree with him after he quit the BAU, as if that were the only place he needed it. Teaching and guest lecturing at all the local universities was nowhere near the stress level of the BAU, and so he'd switched to tea. Somehow, in his (as he called it) pre-retirement, it tasted sweeter.

You had stepped down from being a profiler at the BAU after your third child was born, realising that with a four and two year old waiting outside the birth suite to meet their baby brother, you couldn't risk leaving your three babies without a mother. And while leaving the BAU, your home of close to twenty years, wrought a grief out of you that was close to unbearable, you knew it was the right decision and right time.

And you soon found a love for writing - fiction, non-fiction, poetry, it didn't matter. What you'd experienced in your career as a profiler had changed you, and sometimes writing it out made it less haunting, it gave you closure. You went on book tours, consulted on scholarly and literary journals, you even were brought into Spencer's classrooms to guest lecture from time to time.

All the while building and loving the family both of you had always dreamed of.

Spencer smiled at the dusty pictures that lined the walls, of the faces of his children and grandchildren smiling back him. Of the faces of friends old and new, of ghosts he used to know from a time long gone. Sometimes he hardly recognised himself in those pictures. He wasn't the vain type, but when he looked at himself in his 20's and 30's, he couldn't help the yearning that pulled at his heart when he did.

He compared those youthful pictures against his present day, laughing at the barely existent grey stubble he now sported, of the white hair that curled and stood up in any and all directions, of the glasses he now permanently had to wear. You always said he looked sexier with glasses, anyways, so he didn't mind.

Those pictures were his memory, his legacy, his life. When he felt his brain burning, when his memory became a bit too fuzzy, he could always look at the pictures and find solace in how those moments would live on in the people he loved.

'Spence?'

Your voice prompted him to keep moving, to let go of the past and remain in the present. He wandered through the rest of the house to the backyard, where two garden chairs sat either side of a coffee table, looking over the yard. The gardens were filled with flowers of all shapes and colours. He wasn't a nature guy by any means, but Spencer wanted you to have something to look after other than him or the children, something you could be proud of when you were much older. So he'd planted it himself (okay, he needed help from Derek), filling it with flowers that expressed all the wonderful qualities he loved about you.

There was a small gardening shed in the back, a quaint barbecue/entertainment area to one side, and a build-your-own playground just sitting on the lawn. He found you sitting comfortably in one of the chairs, staring out at the yard contently. He placed both cups of tea on the table before taking his own seat in the other chair.

'Do you remember how Jason used to carry Diana on his back up the slide?' you asked gently, a fond smile cracking your dry lips at the memory of your children playing on the very same playground their children now played on when they visited. 'You always got so scared they would fall and hurt themselves.'

'Isn't that our job?' he asked, taking a sip of his tea. 'To worry for our children?'

'You didn't have to be a helicopter parent, though,' you jibed playfully. 'You got better when Aaron was old enough to climb himself, so I can't berate you for that.'

'Speaking of which, Aaron just called, said him, Rachel and the kids want to invites us to dinner on Friday.'

You turned and smiled at him, but he saw how tired you were. It was in the slight droop in your lips when you smiled, it was in the slouch of your shoulders, it was the way you held out your hand for him to grasp and you could barely squeeze him back. You'd been like this for days, and it broke Spencer's heart to see the love of his life slowly fade away right beside him. He knew it was a natural way of life - considering their previous occupations, he was grateful to be even given the chance to grow old with you.

But despite natural law and despite his many blessings, it didn't dull the ache that grew more painful everyday.

'You don't have to be here, Spence,' you said, voice barely above a whisper, like it was just a secret only you two shared. 'You've seen enough death already.'

Spencer placed his cup on the table before getting out of his chair (a feat he struggled withe everyday now, his BAU days finally catching up to him) and walking around to your side, bringing both his hands to clasp yours as he knelt beside you.

'I'm not going anywhere,' he said, willing every ounce of sincerity and love into his words, into his hands as he held your frail ones. 'Forever and always, remember?'

Spencer almost broke down when your eyes locked with his, those shining (e/c) orbs sparkling with life and mischief and wonder. Despite what time had done to you, you were still his (Y/n), his best friend, his partner, his lover and saviour.

You nodded as if to say yes, I do remember. I always will. You pull one hand free of his grip, and use it to cradle his wrinkled cheeks. 'We've lived a good life, haven't we, Spence?'

He pulled one hand away to caress your hand on his cheek, holding it there for as long as he could. 'Yes. Yes we have.'

Your eyes scanned over him, suddenly seeing your life in rewind.

You saw him as he was now, white, Einstein hair, wrinkled skin and glasses. Then with only little streaks of white in his hair, more sleek. That's how he was with the kids. You kept going back, to your wedding, to your engagement, to the first time you kissed. Every movie night, every case, every late night in the office. Until you were seeing him as if for the first time. Kind of dorky, kind of sweet, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed to explain to you how his "physics magic" worked that very first day in the office.

It was like he was seeing you for the first time as well, as you smiled your bright smile like you did on that first day. The smile you had smiled for him every day since. The smile he saw in your children, and then your grandchildren.

'You are a true wonder, Spence,' you whispered softly, using what little strength you had left to squeeze the hand that still clasped yours as if to say thank you. 'My wonder.'

He waited for the lump in his throat to form, for the words to get stuck in his throat like they always did before. But the lump never formed, and so the words flowed like water out of him, finally feeling right.

'And you are mine,' he whispered back, smiling as bright as he could for you as he held you. 'You always have been my wonder.'

You bring his lips to yours one last time before dropping your hand from his face and sitting back in your seat, looking more tired than you'd ever been. But your other hand still held his, and he certainly wasn't going to let you go. Not yet.

'Spence,' you wheezed, eyes struggling to stay open on him.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, using his now free hand to stroke your grey hair in soothing motions. 'It's okay. You can rest now. I'll join you soon enough.'

The slight dip of your chin let him know you understood, and soon after you closed your eyes, your hand grew slack in his hold and your chest ceased rising.

You were gone.

And he was still here.

It was only then did Spencer allow the tears to fall, to acknowledge that despite both of your acceptances, he was sad. You'd lived good, long lives, and even then Spencer believed it was not enough time to love all of you. He knew it was selfish, but he figured after all he'd been through he would be allowed this one wish.

He held you for another hour before he called your children to notify them of your passing.

He held on for another year before he joined you. Cause of death: a broken heart.

He was buried beside you in the family lot, and on your joint headstone, it wrote:

Here lies Dr. Spencer Reid and Mrs. (Y/n) Reid. Loving Husband and Wife and Parents. "You truly are a wonder."

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Meeting

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Meeting Word Count: 1380 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement Warnings: none Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is one of the six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: your meeting.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Spencer Reid was performing some of his physics magic for his colleagues when he first saw you.

He'd just mixed up the some water with an antacid tablet and placed within a film canister. He'd done it a hundred times on his own, but he'd only just joined the BAU two months ago, and JJ and Derek hadn't seen it before so he just had to do it. Quickly placing the lid on, he said, 'You can turn around now.'

'I don't understand why we had to in the first place,' Derek said as he grumpily turned around.

'A magician never tells his secrets,' Spencer said, rubbing his hands gleefully. To him, showing off his intellect never got boring. 

Well, show off wasn't the proper term. He understood that he could be a lot for some people, knowing so much for a man in his early twenties that looked barely old enough to be out of school, let alone with three Bachelors and PHDs under his belt already. Spouting little known facts or remembering minute details about cases that went back thirty to forty years was just his way of expressing himself. It was his way of contributing to the team. And while his team was getting used to his ramblings and intellect, even demonstrated admiration for it, others would call him a freak.

'If you ask me,' JJ said, 'I wouldn't want to know how he does some things.'

'Fair,' Derek replied, all their eyes on the film canister.

Spencer watched it in anticipation, how the bubbles slipped out between the lid and the canister slowly at first, then started bubbling faster and bigger and-

POP!

The canister rocketed up towards the roof, and all three of them watched with wide eyes as it arced over the bullpen and then down to meet the-

'Ow!'

Spencer ducked into his chair as he watched a young lady in a loose button up shirt, dress pants and boots pat her head. He heard JJ and Derek scurry away, but Spencer remained staring at the woman. Who is she? he thought, his eyes scanning over her.

Your (h/c) hair caught the sunlight, giving it a glow that had Spencer mesmerised. Your (s/c) skin shone with it, making your (e/c) eyes stand out most beautifully. And when you stood back up and made eye contact with him, canister in hand, he found himself frozen, unable to avoid the conclusion that he was the culprit.

'What is this, Reid?' Hotch said, walking up to his desk not looking the least bit impressed. 'Actually, don't answer that. Just don't do it again.'

'Sorry,' Spencer murmured out, a guilty smile stretching his lips slightly.

Hotch blew out a sigh. 'Never mind that now. I would like to introduce you to our new team member. Agent (Y/n) (L/n), a transfer from LA.'

Spencer finally realised that you had walked up with Hotch, and now that you were so close (literally standing a desk apart from one another), he was lost for words at how bright your smile was, and how beautiful you looked that way. 

'So you're the one that thought my head was a good landing place for your little... rocket,' you said offering the film canister back, laughter dancing in your words. 

It took Spencer a moment for him to realise you wanted him to take the canister back, so he scrambled to his feet, fingers fumbling for the canister. 'No, I-I was just showing how a-an antacid reacts with water, and how, put into a small, confined place, that can cause a chemical, gas-like reaction and cause it to exploded.'

'And launch it like a rocket?' you asked.

He paused as he watched your smile slip a little. Oh no. He'd done it again - made someone feel dumber than him. And while technically that was true, he never meant to make anyone feel like that. 

'Y-Yeah?' he answered, awkwardness rising up in his throat, freezing his limbs, his brain.

But then suddenly your smile returned, melting his fear and doubt as you said, 'Cool! I've always loved chemistry. I actually did a Bachelor of Science with a major in archaeological science and a minor in chemistry before I started my BA in Criminology.'

'And now you're here,' he said, a soft smile of his own tugging at his lips. 

You nodded, looking around what would now be your new home. 'And now I'm here.'

'Fascinating,' Spencer breathed out. He didn't mean to, but it made you smile more so he didn't mind. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't introduced himself. He struck out his arm, rigid as a board, and offered his hand. 'Sorry, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'Pleasure to meet you, doctor,' you said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. You skin was as soft as it looked, Spencer noted. 'I very much look forward to working with you and the rest of the team as we go forward.'

'We've got a briefing in five minutes, Reid,' Hotch interrupted, moving to step away from the conversation. 'I'll introduce you to the rest of the team then, (L/n). And if I find you firing another film canister through the sky, Reid-'

'Yes, yes, sorry, no more rockets. Airspace Reid is officially grounded,' Spencer quickly replied, not wanting to get lectured like a twelve-year-old like he usually did.

Your tinkling laughter drew his attention back to you, and he was baffled by the wonderment dancing in your eyes as you looked at him. 'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'T-Thanks?' he replied, although he wasn't quite sure if you were making fun of him or not. Most people did if they didn't straight up tell him he was annoying.

Hotch walked away, but you remained for a moment, leaning in close to whisper, 'That's a good thing, by the way.'

'Oh. Right.' 

You flashed him one last smile before following your new unit chief, falling back into easy conversation with him as you gracefully floated through the chaotic goings of the office. Spencer couldn't take his eyes off you as you did, in awe of your grace and poise, and how you didn't even stumble when you spoke with him. You were genuine, upfront and honest. You couldn't be much older than himself, he noted, perhaps even younger. He was used to being the baby of the team, but it looked like that would be changing.

The prospect of being able to connect with someone his own age sent an unfamiliar but not unwelcome flutter through his heart.

'Oh, you've got it bad.'

Spencer spun in his chair to see JJ and Derek standing behind him once more, watching him with knowing grins. 

'What? What have I got?' he asked. 'I'm not sick... I don't think.'

JJ rolled her eyes and giggled as she walked away, Spencer just catching a quiet, 'This'll be fun,' as she did. But Derek walked closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, and that knowing grin stretched wider, more feline and cheeky. 

'Don't worry, pretty boy,' he said. 'You'll figure it out soon. You're smart, right?'

'Well, smart isn't really the quite term for someone with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187-'

'And pep talk is over,' Derek interrupted, abruptly walking away back to his desk and leaving Spencer in a disarray of emotions.

So he looked back to where you had gone, and found you speaking with Penelope, nodding enthusiastically to whatever she was talking to you about. But you weren't just being polite, you appeared genuinely interested in the conversation, even though Spencer noted you barely contributed to it. 

'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

All his life, Spencer had been told he was a genius - gifted, different. It had just become an effortless part of who he is. It was almost expected at this point to see weirded-out or overly-amazed expressions from people he didn't know. So why then, when you said that to him, did he feel happy about it?

He checked his watch. Almost briefing time. He got up from his seat and made his way to the briefing room where only a place beside you was available. Maybe he would find out soon enough.

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Connection

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Connection Word Count: 2494 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a history in American law enforcement Warnings: drug addiction, self-depracation, crying, minor fluff if you squint. Spoilers: none

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is one of the six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer: your first real connection.

Full story | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4  | Part 5 | Part 6

It became a casual thing, for you to comment on how wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid was. Every day in the office, whenever you travelled to cases, even out in the field, sometimes in not-so-great situations. 

It was only ever once, but you always managed to find something to say, 'You are a wonder, Dr Reid,' to him. Sometimes it was his full name, sometimes just doctor. Sometimes, he was just Spencer. Apart from JJ, you were the only one who ever really called him by his first name. Oddly enough for him, he liked it when he was just Spencer, not the Boy Genius or freak or computer.

But the next time you told him that and it meant something to him was ten months after he ended his drug addiction.

He sat at his desk in the bullpen finishing some paperwork, or at least attempting to. They'd just gotten back from a long and exhausting case and his brain (the very thing he knew he could always rely on) refused to coordinate with his hands and eyes. The information he wished to write out felt jammed at his fingers tips, appeared blurry in his vision.

'Gosh,' he breathed out, leaning back in his seat defeated as he rubbed at his tired eyes. No doubt black bags sagged beneath them. 

It had been a long, exhausting case. The team had gone to Dallas to find a serial killer who'd been leaving a trail of dead doctors and pharmacists over the span of months which had suddenly turned into weeks, then days once his team joined the case. 

The unsub had spiralled, devolved so to say, alluding to a psychotic break. But when they'd found him, he was not the malicious, sadistic person they'd first expected. Spencer was the first on the scene and had instead found a young man in his early twenties, not much younger than himself. All he'd wanted was some off-market narcotic that took away the pain from the physical abuse he received from his father.

And while Spencer's trauma was not the same, he couldn't help but see the parallels. When he'd looked the young man in the eyes, it was like looking into a mirror. All he saw was himself, drowning in his own trauma, his own fear, his own pain. 

Spencer scoped the bullpen, suddenly noticing the silence. Not a single person was left. He then looked at his watch - half past ten. He hadn't noticed people leaving whatsoever. Not surprising considering his current state, his current condition.

Spencer slowly reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, a sudden urge coursing through him to do so. Slowly again, almost hesitantly, he pulled it open and leafed through the many spare manilla folders that sat oddly in there until he reached the bottom.

It was just one vial, but just the mere sight of it sent relief rushing through Spencer. Dilaudid. He gently cradled it up to his eyes, admiring how the glass doors of the entrance became obscured as he looked through the transparent but murky liquid. After this case, what he wouldn't give to have a needle right now. Just one hit-

'Well, if it isn't Dr. Spencer Reid burning the midnight oil.'

Spencer almost dropped the vial as he scrambled to shove it deep into his pant pocket just as you appeared out of nowhere from the conference room.

'Sorry,' you said, an apologetic smile already on your lips. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'It's okay,' he replied as casually as possible. It was one thing to nearly be caught out by your colleague that you had an illegal narcotic you used to have an addiction for in your hand, but another when that colleague is one you've admired since the day you met. 'I was lost in thought, anyways.'

'Well just as well then. I can only imagine how depthless your brain must go with all that knowledge crammed in there.' You walked down the stairs to the floor of the bullpen and walked to him. You were still in your clothes from the past twenty-four hours, and your light makeup looked like it was lifting off your face like a second skin. Even your unrelenting smile seemed to sag with exhaustion.

Spencer straightened up in his seat, suddenly concerned. 'You okay, (Y/N)? You look-'

'Like trash?' you finished as you pulled up a chair of your own and sat in front of him. 'I have no doubt.'

Spencer looked behind her back into the conference room, his eyebrows furrowing when he spotted stacks of folders and loose paperwork spread across the table. 'That all yours?'

You looked back to the mess of words and paper you'd just escaped and sighed dramatically. 'Oh, yeah. Seems like the longer the case, the more paperwork you have to do. Poor trees.'

'Yeah...' Spencer found it odd how much paperwork you had to get through. Even he didn't have that much to get through. But before he could question you about it, your soft voice filled the damning void that surrounded him.

'How are you feeling, you know, after this case?'

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Don't give me that,' you say, your smile now replaced by a seriousness Spencer only saw on you when you were making an arrest or in really dire situations. You've worked together for almost three years now, he knew all the faces you pulled, all of your likes and dislikes, how you liked your coffee only after you've completed one task for the day to prove you can survive without it but choose not to. 

He knows you, so it should not be surprising that you know him just as well.

'The moment we found out the unsub's objective, you've been a little... off.'

'Well, it shouldn't be surprising considering that was me just ten months ago,' he said matter-of-factly, pulling back into his shell, putting up his guard. 'I mean, if Hotch hadn't have found out about it, that could've been me-'

'No it wouldn't have.'

Spencer scoffed, but not in a demeaning manner. He just didn't believe you for a moment because he could see the facts, the statistics, in his head. 'Over 45% percent of addicts relapse at least twice. This is without the intervention or support by health care clinics and families and friends, and this case just proved that. So, yes, it could've been-'

'But it wasn't,' you intervened again, your voice echoing like soft thunder through the empty office. It gave you presence, forcing Spencer to look at you, like really look at you, and face what you were about to say.

'You had help and support from people that care about you, Spence,' you continued, sitting forward in your seat. 'And I don't care about the statistics, you're not one of them. You're your own person and you can determine where you add value in life, not by some... statistically-informed percentage prediction... thing.'

That drew a laugh out him, the quiet but sudden sound surprising him slightly. 'Stastically-informed percentage prediction, huh?'

'Shut up,' you grumbled and playfully punched his shoulder. When you both calmed down, you continued. 'When I realised who we were looking for, for a moment I kind of got scared.'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow 'Scared?'

You nodded. 'The truth is that... when you were kidnapped and... you had to endure all that pain alone... I was terrified. We all were. Even when we found you, I was terrified. Because I knew you would never be the same, and not that it's your problem, but I knew in that moment that I would never forgive myself for not finding you sooner. For not going with you and JJ to the farm.'

Tears welled up in your eyes and Spencer immediately leant forward. To do what, he didn't know, he just needed you to know he was there for you, like you always were for him.

'I'm sorry,' you mutter, blinking the tears away before they could fall. 'Your trauma is not my own. I have no right to express my guilt.'

'There's nothing to feel guilty for,' he said, reaching out slowly with his hands, the ones that slightly shook as he laid them on your own. 

To his relief, you smiled. It wasn't full, but it was there. 'You're a horrible liar, Spencer Reid.' That brought some laughter out of you both, lightening the suffocating air of the office. 

'But even when we found out about you and the dilaudid,' you continued, pulling yourself together, if only to let Spencer know your true thoughts. 'I wasn't even mad.'

A large lump formed in Spencer's throat, and he had a hard time swallowing it along with the threat of tears that burned behind his amber eyes. 'You... You weren't?' 

It was the mixture of surprise and hope that pulled at your heart, that made you feel obligated to keep speaking. 'Why should I have been? I was not the one who was tortured mentally and physically by a split-personality murderer; and who also witnesses the darkest, most ugliest aspects of humanity every single day of his life. It was not my place to judge how you hold onto your own humanity.'

Your eyes until then had never left his, but they flickered downwards then, and Spencer froze at where your gaze landed. 

It only lasted a moment before your eyes returned to his, and it startled him the lack of sympathy he finds there, but instead warmth. 'It is still not my place to judge,' you said, twisting your hands so they could clasp his fully. 'All I know is that... you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. So much stronger than me, JJ, Pen, Emily - heck, I'd say you're even stronger than Derek. But not Hotch, Gideon, and Rossi, though. Then again, no one is.'

You both chuckled at that, and all the tension in his body seemed to dissipate at the sound. So light and airy, it was what he imagined heaven sounded like. 

'The point is,' you continued, giving his hands a squeeze, 'you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded and conflicted within himself. He felt like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. And a great urge to suddenly engulf you in a hug started itching his limbs, which was weird because he didn't care much physical affection, or affection in general. But before he could decide what he wanted to do, you decided for him.

You gave his hands one last squeeze before letting go and standing up. The absence of your touch left him cold as he followed you as you went back into the conference room to pack up. Surprisingly it didn't take you long until you came back out, your coat and bag in hand.

'Don't stay up too long, now,' you said as you passed him by, your smile so radiant it was almost as if you weren't crying just a few minutes before. 'We've got a long day ahead.'

As soon as the elevator door closed on you, he pulled out the vial of dilaudid and stared it down. It was like it was taunting him, sitting idly, innocently, in his palm, as if it knew he desperately wanted it, needed it.

'...you are stronger than you give yourself credit for... you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

For some reason, though, he suddenly didn't need it. The fire, the urge, the want and reliance for it - he was suddenly weightless with clarity, if only for a moment.

Spencer chucked the vial in the dumpster outside the office when he left. It was hard, but he did it. He knew he wasn't cured, that there was still a long road ahead. But it was a start.

The next day when he came into the office, Derek was the first to comment on his haggard appearance.

'Seriously man,' he said, trailing Spencer out of the break room, 'you look like a ghoul. Did you sleep at all last night.'

'I was here late last night doing paperwork,' he explained, sitting himself and his coffee down at his desk. 'You should go see (y/n), she probably looks a little worse for wear herself from staying late last night, too.'

'Oh, she stayed late too, did she?'

'It's not like that,' Spencer insisted, swatting at Derek pathetically. 'She had a mountain of paperwork to finish of her own.'

'Y/N?' Emily said as she walked by with JJ, identical coffees in their hands. 'She finished her paperwork at about the same time I did.'

'Yeah, we were walking out together before she turned back into the office. Said she had to talk with Hotch,' JJ said.

'I remember that,' Spencer added. 'You guys said goodnight to me on your way out.' Not that he had responded, he suddenly recalled, a pang of guilt punching his gut.

'Who had to talk with me?' The man himself suddenly walked by, stopping at the congregated group upon hearing his name.

'Y/n,' Emily answered. 'Last night.'

'Oh, yes. She, uh, asked if there was anymore paperwork to do.'

'Why would she do that when she was done?' JJ asked. 

'I don't know,' Hotch said, making his way towards his office, 'but who am I to turn away someone who wants to do paperwork for free? Now, briefing in ten minutes.'

As the others dispersed back to their desks, Spencer didn't know how to feel about this new information. It didn't help the matter when you finally dragged yourself into the office, dark circles peaking out from under your thin layer of foundation. But as you sat at your desk, eyes drooping as you logged onto your laptop, he knew just what to do.

It took you a second to register the cup of coffee being held in front of your dazed eyes, and another to realise who was holding it.

'Late night?' Spencer asked, a coy smile on his lips.

Despite your exhaustion, you managed to grab the cup without spilling any of the precious caffeine that would help you through the day. 'Yeah,' you decided to play dumb, answering as enthusiastically as possible. 'Paperwork, you know. Never-ending.'

Spencer hummed, contemplating his next words carefully. 'Well, I hope giving up your sleep was worth it, then.'

'I'd like to think it was.'

The way you didn't hesitate to answer struck a chord of truth in him that left him dumbfounded once more. Twice in under twenty-four hours? That had to be a new record for him.

But instead of freezing up, he managed an honest smile as he clanked his coffee cup with your own. 'Well... it is certainly most appreciated.'